Despertar
by flashpenguin
Summary: A weekend hunting trip turns dangerous as Dave and Emily cross paths with convicts on the run. When desperation battles wits, who will be the victor? COMPLETE! Inspired by Aisha Duo's song "Despertar".
1. Prologue

_I think I am learning my way around stories and what makes the characters tick. My last two stories completely took me (and some readers) by surprise, so I figured I would go for more of an action feel with this one. Truth is stranger than fiction, and since I am basing this on a real life FBI case, it will be interesting to see the direction it takes. I don't own Criminal Minds. Why? Because sometimes life is just that unfair!_

**Despertar**

_**2209 Hours. The Kentucky Minimum Security Correctional Facility outside Danville.**_

_Lights out. Silence fell so quietly that if you listened carefully, you could almost hear rabbits snoring. Settled out in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky, the Danville Correctional Facility housed the least violent criminals of society. The ones that committed a crime worse than jail time, but not quite enough to warrant prison were housed in a place that slightly resembled a boarding school. It was more like a boarding school for wayward students._

_Correctional Officer Truman cast a glance at the TV monitors and let out a deep breath. It appeared to be another quiet night, and he was okay with that. Most nights were uneventful, and although not boring by any definition, sometimes the twelve hour shift seemed to last forever. Another glance at the screens, and a fill in the blanks for the Sudoku puzzle, he stood up, stretched, and reached for his coffee cup._

_Coffee sounded good and he was glad the guard before had made a fresh pot before leaving for hourly rounds. As he poured, he rubbed his eyes. What he would give for a nap. The baby had been colicky and kept him awake--kept everyone awake, he amended. He really was looking forward to the three days off at the end of the week. _

_As he took a sip, his ears perked at a slight noise. Senses suddenly on high alert, he put the cup down and reached for his side arm. Without warning, a sharp pain invaded the back of his head. Cradling his head, Officer Truman turned around to view his attacker. Before he could speak, he was hit again across the temple. Everything went black as he fell to the ground._

_Standing over the officer, a short stocky man with rage in his eyes went to swing again._

"_Frank! Stop!" a voice commanded._

_Frank stopped. And looked up. "He saw us, George!"_

"_He's out; let him go." George replied, as he started scavenging thru the desk looking for something, anything to aid in their escape. "Get his keys." Finding the object, he grabbed it and shoved it in his pants pockets. Then with a quick swipe of his arm, he tossed the computer monitors to the floor._

"_You get the keys?" he asked as he knelt beside the unconscious officer. Frantically he searched the pockets, pulling out handcuffs and a wallet. Reaching over, he took the side arm and stood up. "Let's go." Yanking open the door, he rushed out the door. Frank looked at the officer and delivered one last kick in the side. Then he followed his friend._

_Sneaking out toward the parking lot, the two escapees tried a couple of cars before finding one the key fit to. Looking over their shoulders, George started the car. Shoving it into gear, it took everything he had to calmly drive out of the lot. Pointing the car toward the highway, they sped off into the night._

"_You shoulda let me kill him," Frank replied bitterly._

"_No. He's got a kid; I don't want his kid growing up an orphan like I did."_

"_I grew up without a father and I turned out all right."_

_George cast a glance at his partner in crime. "Exactly. The plan was just to knock him out and run. Not kill him. I figure that it should be another hour or so before they find him. We'll have to pull off and get supplies. It's going to be hard to find us in the dark, so we got a head start. I figure a full tank of gas and some grub will get us out of Kentucky."_

_Frank tuned the radio so country music filled the air. "Where we headed? Arkansas?"_

"_No, they'll be expecting us to head west; I think we can get out of this state in a couple of hours. You ever been to Virginia?"_

"_Nope. I try not to go to states I can't spell."_

_George gave a chuckle. Frank wasn't too bright, but he sure was the man to have on your side in a fight. "I figure we can get to Virginia, ditch the car, and get a new set of wheels. Nothing like getting lost in the mountains."_

"_So, what are we going to do for cash?"_

"_I'm figuring Officer Truman's wallet can help us out for a while. After that we rely on our talent and wits."_

"_Ain't no good trying to rob a bank without a gun." George pulled Officer Truman's side arm out from underneath the seat. Frank looked at with disdain. "That ain't nothing but a pea shooter."_

"_Yeah, well, tellers aren't too smart. And we just need enough to get established."_

_No one talked for a long moment as they listened to Chely Wright. As her dulcet voice faded off into a commercial, Frank turned to George. "So where abouts in Virginia are you headed?"_

"_Ever hear of a town called Luray?"_

"_Larry?"_

"_Luray. I grew up about 60 miles east in Manassas. It ain't much of a city, but it's got mountains and cabins we can hide out in until we find another vehicle."_

"_Luray." Frank tried the word on his tongue. "I think I could like that place."_

"_Yeah." George turned up the radio, as he pressed the gas pedal to urge the car faster out of Kentucky. They had made a clean get away. Now it was time to start over. Life was going to be good. And if it wasn't, well he'd take care of that when it happens._


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, the bad guys are heading out of Kentucky while our good guys are heading toward a relaxing weekend in the woods. Okay, that might be a overstatement. But let's get them settled and rested before the fireworks begin. I don't own Criminal Minds. But I wonder if it's too late to buy stock in the company._

**Despertar**

David Rossi reached over and turned up the radio. Casting a glace to his right, he noticed that Emily had fallen asleep. He couldn't blame her. It had taken a lot of persuading to get her to join him on a hunting trip--especially when she found out that they would be leaving Arlington at 0400. Not until he called her bluff in front of the team did she actually break down and agree to the trip and departure time.

He wasn't sure why he had asked her. Normally he liked the solitary solitude of himself and his dog. He liked being away from the hustle and bustle of city life and just being able to breathe fresh air and cleanse his soul. Lately, it seemed crime was on the upswing and he would never be able to take a vacation. But when a break presented itself, Dave was on it. But this time he wanted company. And Prentiss looked as though she could use the break. He gets company and she learns to unwind---it was a win-win all the way around.

Now, with the cooler in the jump seat, the dog on the opposite jump seat, Emily asleep in the passenger, he felt a small urge of excitement as the truck sped toward the isolated cabin in the woods. Was it luck or design that he would find the perfect cabin, on the lake, directly between Royal and Luray? He had snatched it up for a song and fixed it up for twice as much. But he had the money, and he liked to be comfortable. If that was a sin, oh well; Dave worked hard for his money and what he didn't pay out for alimony, he deservedly spent it on himself.

He barely blinked as the **Welcome To Royal, VA** sign passed by. He figured they could stop for breakfast before heading on to the cabin. Then they would---his thoughts were interrupted by dual snoring. Dave's mouth curved in a slight smile to realize that Emily and Mudgie were snoring in cadence. Oh, he was going to hold this over her head. Maybe if this trip went well, he could cajole her into another. Now he had a bargaining chip.

As the café came into sight, Dave slowed down. Touching the brake gently, he guided the truck into an empty parking space. Putting it in park, he turned off the ignition. Gently he touched Emily's shoulder.

"Prentiss," he called. "Prentiss, wake up."

Groaning, Emily rubbed her eyes and stretched. "Are we there yet?"

"No, we have about a half hour. I thought we'd stop for breakfast. Are you hungry?"

Emily stretched again. "Depends; are you paying?"

Dave shrugged. "Yeah. You are my guest."

Emily unfastened the seat belt and opened the door. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I could be at home right now. Curled under my down comforter, fast asleep and lost in dreams."

Dave hit the lock button and closed the door behind him. "Where is the fun in that? Just think: you will have three days away from smog, noise, crime, and you will be able to see my private cabin."

Emily raised her eyebrow. "I've heard guys use some pretty outrageous pet names, but that's a new one. You use that with all the women or just me?"

"Very funny Agent Prentiss; are you always so happy go lucky this early in the morning?"

"I don't think birds are happy go lucky this early in the morning."

Dave shook his head. "Morgan was right about you and your coffee fix."

"What about me and my coffee fix?" she replied indignantly.

Dave held up his hands defensively. "Nothing. Let's get you fed." He held the door open for her. Then he followed.

* * *

One hour later Dave pulled the truck up the cabin and shoved the gear into park before cutting off the engine. Emily looked at the cabin and back at Dave. "_That_ is your rustic cabin in the woods?"

"I know it's not much, but it's comfortable," Dave apologized and let Mudgie out to run free. Emily flipped her seat forward and grabbed the cooler.

"Not much? Rossi, this is better than some of the houses in Arlington."

"What were you expecting?"

Emily heaved the cooler up and used her hip to close the door. "I don't know; maybe something from Little House on The Prairie, I suppose."

Dave chuckled and gathered up the shotgun and rifle. "Well, we are in the 21st century, Prentiss. Bucolic sounds good on paper, but in the winter time, it ruins the moment to have to trek 300 yards to the outhouse." He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. "I like to be comfortable. So sue me."

Walking inside, Emily placed the cooler on the dining room table. "So how comfortable is comfortable?"

"I have electricity, running water, toilets, but no TV, computer, or satellite service. I have a stereo if I want music and a collection of books."

Emily looked at him in astonishment. "Seriously?"

"If I wanted all of those amenities, I would stay in the city. I like to get away and unwind. It wouldn't hurt you to do the same. Go put that stuff in the kitchen and I'll get our bags," he offered and stepped outside. Emily, still in shock, carried the items to the other room. Carefully, she settled the food and wine bottles on the refrigerator shelves. She straightened as she heard Dave approach.

"I'll show you where your room is so you can change, if you want. Then we'll take a quick tour around the grounds."

Emily closed the fridge. "Sure."

Quickly she changed into jeans and hiking boots and joined Dave downstairs. With her hair tucked neatly under a ball cap, she could almost feel the excitement building as she followed Dave down the winding tree covered paths. She had lived all over the world, but never had she seen anything quite as wonderful as these woods. She was almost beginning to understand why Dave ran away every chance he got.

Settled back in, she started a fire in the huge rock fireplace while Dave made dinner. Very little was spoken over the dinner table.

Sated from a wonderful meal and Italian wine, Emily offered to do the dishes, but Dave waved her off.

"It's just a couple of items. I got it taken care of. Besides, we'll be leaving out first thing in the morning and I want you rested."

Emily groaned. "You seriously still want to hunt?"

"Hunting cabin out in the woods. What did you think I was going to do? Sew?"

"Sewing sounds good."

"Tell you what: finish your drink, turn in, and we'll see about working fishing into the schedule."

"Actually, I suck more at fishing than I do hunting."

"I doubt you suck at anything Emily Prentiss. Go turn in. See you in the morning." He watched as Emily drained her glass, left it on the table, and climbed the stairs. Once she was out of sight, Dave grabbed the glass and took it to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, he locked the doors, checked the windows, and turned out the lights. Climbing the stairs to his room, he paused outside Emily's door. Gently he eased it open. Light snoring filled the space. Looking around, a black head raised up from the foot of Emily's bed.

"Come on boy," Dave offered. The dog put his head down and sighed. "This is not your bed. Come on!" No response. Dave shook his head and closed the door.

Undressing quickly, he changed into his pajamas and got under the covers. Settling down into sleep, Dave suddenly sat up. Turning on the light, he pulled open the drawer of the nightstand. Taking out his 9mm, he checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was on. Reassured, he replaced it, turned out the light, and lay back against the pillows.

His feet felt the empty space where the dog usually slept. The dog that was usually so loyal and devoted to his master, was now sleeping in Emily's bed.

"Lucky dog," Dave muttered and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm going to be honest---I don't like writing stories that aren't K+. I guess it's because I want the stories to be able to speak for themselves without using vulgarity, cursing and even gratuitous sex and violence. I want everyone to be able to read and enjoy. But real life isn't that neat and tidy. And with the direction this story is going to take, K+ is out of the question. I will do my best to make it enjoyable. Well, good and bad are about to cross paths, and it's not going pretty. I don't own Criminal Minds--shuckey darn my bad luck!_

* * *

**Despertar**

Morning dawned bright and early in the woods. But Dave had already been up for a couple of hours after being awaken by the sound of helicopters. Not willing to wake Emily up for what might have been nothing, he had instead made coffee and took the dog for a quick walk. Now he sat at the dining room table, perusing his latest manuscript. Lost in thought, he didn't hear the padding of feet across the floor.

"Got any of that for me?"

Dave looked up to see Emily standing before him in blue pajamas, her hair mussed, and fresh from sleep. "Sit down and I'll get you a cup. Splenda with two creamers?"

"You remember," she complimented with a small smile. Dave left for the kitchen and Emily tried to wake up. Her eye caught the papers at Dave's seat and tried to make out the words without appearing to be nosy. As Dave stepped back in and handed her the coffee mug, she thanked him and tried to make small talk.

"So, what is that?" She nodded toward the stack of papers Dave was marking.

"My latest story."

"Oh. I didn't know you were still writing."

"Occasionally. I come out here to refresh and work things thru. Sometimes they end up on paper. I don't have a book request. But I might submit this; I may not."

Emily sipped the scalding liquid. "What's it about?"

"An UNSUB who eviscerates his victims."

"Yum. Let me guess: during the day he is a bible thumping preacher?"

Dave looked up over the rim of his glasses. "Close. Day care worker."

"Yikes! So how are you going to profile him?"

"Haven't gotten to that part yet. I guess I'm suffering from writer's block. That last case took it out of me."

Emily nodded. "It was a bad one. Who would have ever thought it was an old woman killing off her boarders?"

"Most of them were vagrants and homeless; no one would have missed them if the door to door salesman hadn't disappeared." Dave took off his glasses and restacked the papers.

"I am still trying to figure out how she got his body out into the alley way."

"Desperate people do desperate things to cover their tracks." Silence. "I can warm up some Jimmy Dean biscuits if you want to go get changed." Emily nodded and stood up.

"Dave, do I have to shoot something to go hunting?"

Dave got thoughtful. "Make you a deal: you will only have to pull the trigger if my life is in danger."

"Okay." With a shrug Emily left the room. Dave went into the kitchen to start breakfast. Ten minutes later, with the food warming, Dave heard a noise in the front yard. Quickly he stepped out to the front door to see a sheriff's patrol car. Opening the screen, he crossed the porch and stairs to the uniformed officer.

"Hey James, how are you doing?" Dave greeted and shook his friend's hand.

"Hi Dave. I didn't think you'd be here. I saw your truck so I thought I'd stop by and let you know there's an APB out for two guys who broke out of the Danville Facility two nights ago."

"How'd that happen?"

"Surprised the correctional officer from behind and beat him with a barbell. Took his wallet, handcuffs, and car. Plus they lifted his service revolver. Poor guy is still in ICU. Took a blot clot out of his brain yesterday."

Dave rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You think they might be headed toward this area?"

James let out a huge breath. "We don't know. They ditched the car across the West Virginia border, then hitch-hiked to Beckley where they stole a car. They also robbed a credit union in Fayetteville late yesterday afternoon. No one was killed, but they did beat the security guard senseless. Made off with about five grand."

"That explains the helicopter early this morning. You need my help?"

"Not yet. We're pretty sure they are heading toward Ohio; the feds are on it. And we have road blocks just about everywhere. I just wanted to come out and let you know what was happening."

"Thanks for the heads up."

The sound of the screen door slamming caused James to look up. Freshened up and changed into jeans and flannel shirt, Emily came skipping down the stairs. Dave didn't miss the way the deputy's eyes brightened. Inexplicably, he felt himself go into protective mode. "Hey! Easy tiger."

Before Dave could make the intros, James stepped forward. "Well, hello there," James greeted and tipped his hat. "This is a surprise; Dave didn't mention he had a guest. But then again he doesn't usually have guests up here."

Emily arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep. Most of the time he locks himself in the cabin and becomes a hermit." James tucked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked on his heels.

"You don't say." Emily tucked that bit of info away. "Honestly, he's never had a guest up here?"

"Nope. That is why I am surprised to see you. So, tell me, how'd he talked a pretty thing like you into spending a weekend in the woods?"

Emily nearly laughed at the way the poor deputy was blatantly flirting with her. Usually, she didn't care for flirty guys, but she realized the guy was harmless and decided to play along. "It wasn't easy but in the end he lured me in with talk of rifles and wildlife."

"Basically he sweet talked you?"

"Yeah; nothing likes the promise of shooting a poor innocent animal to death to win a girl's heart." Emily gave him a wink.

"Wow. Usually I have to bribe him with Buffalo wings and darts to get him out in the fresh air and sunshine. Next time I'll offer to go hunting. Save myself some money."

Dave spoke up. "Thanks but no thanks. I heard about the last guy you went hunting with. Has physical therapy taught him how to walk without the limp yet?"

James flushed red. "It was an accident! How was I supposed to know he was going to walk into my line of fire as I was putting the final target on the buck?"

"I don't think you ever had a line on that buck. What kind of guy misses the buck, shoots his friend, and when the opportunity still presents itself misses the buck again?"

James sputtered. "A guy rushing to give his friend first aid."

Dave rolled his eyes. "That's your story and you're sticking to it. I'm not going to argue with you."

James turned pleading eyes toward Emily. "I grew up with shotguns; I'm not used to rifles. But I was sixteen when that happened; I've gotten better since then."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather take my chances hunting with Dick Cheney, thank you," Dave replied. An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Deciding the poor deputy had squirmed enough, he made the introductions. "Emily Prentiss, this is Deputy James Hayes. Deputy Hayes, Special Agent Emily Prentiss."

James tried to hide his disappointment. "Agent? You're Fed too?"

"Actually, Dave and I both work at the BAU together." Emily shook James' hand.

"Oh." James got a little nervous. "Sorry about coming on to you; usually I'm not like that. I meant no disrespect."

"None taken," Emily assured him. "So what brings you out here?"

Dave spoke up first. "James was informing me of a couple convicts escaping from Kentucky and robbing a credit union in West Virginia."

Emily threw an anxious look at James and David. "You catch them yet?"

"No ma'am. We issued an APB and BOLO, but nothing yet."

"The authorities think they might be heading toward Ohio," Dave supplied. "But it never hurts to cover all the bases."

"Got that right," James agreed. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he decided to leave instead of further embarrassing himself. "Well, I gotta get back to work. You two take care. I'll stop by later to check on things."

"Thanks. How about you come over later for dinner? We're having Manicotti," Dave offered.

"Sounds good." James got back into the vehicle and started the engine. "If you see anything, let me know."

"Will do," Dave replied with a wave. James put the car into reverse and left the yard.

"Nice guy," Emily commented.

"You always flirt with strange deputies?"

She gave him wide smile. "Why David Rossi, if I didn't know any better, I would say that you are jealous."

Dave looked down and kicked at a rock. "Not jealous. I don't get jealous."

"Ah huh," Emily replied, loving to watch the great profiler squirm. "So, are you worried about what James said?"

"A little," Dave confirmed. "But since they are heading toward Ohio, I don't see getting all worked up over nothing. Besides, we are off this weekend---a weekend free of crime and profiling."

"I'll believe it when I see it. So, is breakfast ready?" Just then the fire alarm went off.

Dave gave her a worried look. "Oh hell! The biscuits!" Scaling the steps, he ran inside. Emily chuckled at the sound of a metal pan hitting the floor, followed by cursing.

"I take it we are going out for breakfast?" she called out. Her answer was another curse. "I'll go warm the truck." Emily went inside and was greeted by black smoke. Quickly she grabbed the keys and her purse while calling for the dog.

As she started the engine, she thought she saw something move in the brush. Staring intently, she waited to see if it would happen again. Nothing. Giving herself a mental shake, she watched Dave lock the front door and walk to the truck.

"I don't think I'll ever get that smell out of the house."

"Mmmm, the charred smell of sausage biscuits. You sure know how to treat a guest. Or did I just get lucky this weekend?"

"Quiet. I'll have to stop for some air freshener, too." He got inside and buckled the seat belt. "So, what were you looking at?"

Emily shook her head. "Nothing. I thought I saw something in the brush."

"It could have been a rabbit."

"I guess."

"Emily Prentiss's spidey-sense is on high alert," Dave ribbed with humour.

"After what James told us, do you blame me?"

"I think you're just afraid of the woods."

"I am not afraid. Just nervous. I can't explain it."

Dave put the truck in gear. Then he turned to Emily, his tone serious. "I've never doubted your feelings before, and I am not about to now. Let's get into town and hurry back."

Emily nodded in reply. A small whine from the back seat made her turn around. "I know you're hungry sweetie. But your daddy burned breakfast. He can make a helluva lasagne, but can't warm a biscuit; go figure." Mudgie whined again. "I know. But he's taking us out, so we have to keep him." Emily leaned close to the dog and got a lick on the cheek. Straightening up, she looked at Dave.

"I'm not jealous, if that is what you are thinking," Dave replied absently.

Emily gve him an innocent look. "Never thought you were."

"Dog gets to sleep with you, comes when you call, and gives you kisses. I'm not jealous at all," Dave muttered under his breath.

"You already said that." Emily reached behind to scratch Mudgie under the chin.

"Or maybe I am," Dave remarked and turned the truck out on to the main road. Speechless, Emily cast a glance in her partner's direction. Aware of her stare, Dave concentrated on the road and the radio.

Hunting was looking less inviting with each passing mile.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hope you don't mind that I decided to break that last chapter up into two. Emily's "spidey-sense" is right on target, but unfortunately the bad guys have the element of surprise on their side. I just want to warn you that from here on in it's going to get dangerous. Warning, there is a character death in this chapter, but the bad guys aren't convicts because they jay-walked; they are desperate criminals. I don't own Criminal Minds. What can I say? This is more fun._

**Despertar**

Hiding in the brush and foliage, the two crouched figures waited for Dave's truck to pull away before standing up. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, George waved to Frank. "They're gone. Let's go."

"You think they'll be gone long?"

"No idea. But right now I want a shower and some clean clothes."

"Me too."

George tried the door knob. "Want the honours?" he offered to Frank. Without hesitation, Frank busted the window pane with his elbow and reached in for the dead-bolt. Quickly they stepped in and closed the door behind them.

Looking around, they took in the living space. "Damn! Just who the hell lives here?" Frank exclaimed. Cautiously, he made his way over to the fireplace and looked at the pictures on the mantle and walls.

"I don't know, but between that truck and this place, it's got to be someone with a lot of money. I think we are set my friend. You hungry?" George walked to the kitchen and started coughing. Frank followed.

"What the hell is that smell?"

"That my friend is the tell-tale sign of a woman who can't cook to save her life."

"Well, you know what they say about women; they're only good for one thing."

George's eyes darkened as he remembered seeing Emily going down the steps to the truck. He had thought about robbing the place and booking, but an animal urge started to build up in him and now maybe staying for a while could benefit him and Frank. Since they were on the run, who said they couldn't have a little fun?

Opening the cupboards, George threw his friend a look. "Go get cleaned up; I'll get us something to eat."

Forty minutes later both men were showered, changed and sitting at the dining room table. Wordlessly they ate the leftovers George had found in the fridge. He wasn't sure what it was, but it tasted good. Anything was better than that slop they served at the prison, and it was a helluva lot better than the fast food sandwiches that had been their only staple for the past two days. He could get used to this, he thought to himself as his gaze swept over the surroundings.

But he was still perplexed as he looked at the ceiling. Who the hell put a chandelier in a cabin? Unable to think of an answer, George turned back to his meal.

The sound of a car pulling up caused both guys to jump up. Frank ran to the living room window and looked out.

"Shit! It's the sheriff! Now what do we do?"

"Calm down. It's probably nothing. Stay here and I'll take care of him." Tucking the pistol down his back into the waistband, George calmly opened the front door and stepped out. "Morning officer. What can I do for you today?"

James had not planned on coming back, but when he got back to the office, there had been a message for Dave to call Agent Hotchner back in Quantico. Thinking it was an emergency, he turned around and headed back out. As he pulled up, he noticed Dave's truck gone; he figured he could leave the note on the door. But when the strange guy stepped out on the porch, James' keen police sense kicked into full gear and his hand suddenly hovered near his service revolver.

"Morning sir," James greeted casually, but his guard was up. "I was just driving around and thought I'd stop by to see how things were doing." Cautiously he stepped forward. His tone was amiable, but his body was on edge. Something wasn't right, so he tried to make small talk to kill time until Dave got back. "I haven't seen you around here before. New to this area?"

George nodded. "Sure am. Just got in from Arkansas last night. My uncle owns this place and said I could spend the weekend out here."

James gave the cabin a once over. "Pretty nice place your uncle has here. So, is he here with you? Your uncle that is."

"Nah. He's in New York. It's just me and my brother."

"You don't say?" James suddenly felt the urge to get out of there. He didn't know where Dave and Emily were, but once he got back to the station, he could get a team together. But first he had to get out of there alive. Slowly the seconds ticked by as each guy waited for the other to make the first move.

"Why don't you come in for some coffee?" George offered.

James nodded. "Thanks just the same, but I gotta get back on the road. Gotta get those reports done. You and your brother have a good stay." As he turned to get back in the car, he heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol hammer being pulled back.

"Well officer, I can't rightly let you do that. Now I suggest you drop your weapon and put your hands up."

James touched his service revolver. He tried to estimate the chances of hitting the target and get away. His brain tried to remember what they taught him at the police academy, but it was one thing to read it in a book and quite another to be face to face with a fugitive. Before he could think it thru, he drew his weapon and spun around. He never got a chance to get a round off as he felt a white hot heat fill his chest.

Dropping to his knees, James tried to catch his breath as the world started spinning. As darkness filled his vision, he tried to hold on. He had to warn Dave. His last thoughts were of laughing with Dave and Emily earlier that morning and how he wished he had paid more attention to Dave during their talks about law enforcement.

James struggled for one last breath and then his world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm sorry for killing off James. He really was good people. But as I mentioned in an earlier chapter, desperate people do desperate things. Emily and Dave are back and are about to walk into a trap. Will they get the upper hand, or will the bad guys. Dave will have to put his crime & street knowledge to use, while Emily has a trick up her sleeve. But will it work? I don't own Criminal Minds. Why not?_

**

* * *

**

**Despertar**

Stepping off the porch, George walked over to where James lay. With disinterest, he watched the pool of blood that spread from underneath the deputy's body. He knew that James was dead, but he still delivered a hard kick to the head just to make sure.

The screen door opened and Frank stepped out. George looked at him. "He made us."

"I figured as much. So what do we do now? We can't exactly drive off in his car."

"That couple should be back soon; we'll take their car." Kneeling down, George went thru James's pockets. Another pistol, plus the shotgun in the backseat, George smiled at their luck. "Frank get down here and move this guy somewhere while I hide the car."

Frank took James's lifeless body and threw him over a broad shoulder. "Where do you want me to put him?"

"I don't know; somewhere in the woods where no one can find him. Then get back here." George watched his partner disappear into the foliage. Then he got into the patrol car, started the engine, and put it in gear. He had to hide it well if his plan was going to work.

When they first started out, he thought for sure they would be caught in Fayetteville, until they ditched the car north of the town and threw the police in another direction. Five grand wasn't a lot, but he wasn't surprised since they did rob the credit union late on a Friday afternoon. He forgot that they made a deposit in the vault before three. But five grand was enough of a start.

He hadn't been sure how they were going to get to Manassas until the little cabin in the woods popped up out of nowhere. Was it luck or fate that they would stumble upon rich people? He groaned at the thought of Emily---that bitch was hot to trot and he'd sell his soul to hit that once. Hell, he'd been without sex for so long that if he had a chance to hit that, he'd make sure it would be more than once. His body stirred with fantasies of finally being able to release all the sexual frustration that had been building inside. He just wanted to make sure he got his fill before Frank had a chance because it was possible the bitch wouldn't live thru that marathon.

Her old man didn't seem like much; he and Frank could take care of him in no time. Then they would all have a little fun. It was more than their lucky day---it was their pay day!

Going as far as he dare into the woods, George parked the car and switched off the engine. He didn't want to be too far away before the couple got back; he needed the element of surprise---especially if Frank got lost in the woods.

Hearing the sound of a vehicle, George hurried down the road; he cut a path to the cabin and ducked inside.

* * *

Dave pulled the truck up in front of the cabin. Turning off the engine, Mudgie started whining.

"What's wrong?" he asked and threw Emily a look. She shook her head. Together they scanned the area. Nothing. But the dog kept whining.

Emily got out and beckoned the dog to follow, but he refused to move. "Has he ever been like this before?"

"No. I don't see anything out of place. You stay here while I look." Reaching under the seat, he grabbed his 9mm and made sure it was loaded. "You got your pistol?" Emily nodded. "Mudgie, stay here with Emily."

Mudgie wasn't going anywhere without Emily as he watched Dave start up the stairs slowly.

As Dave checked on things, Emily noticed a dark spot on the ground. Stepping over, she bent down to touch it. Blood. Oh God! Immediately her brain tried to assess the situation. Just as she was to call out to Dave, her eye caught sight of an amber colored piece of paper. Picking it up, she scanned it quickly. _David Rossi. Agent Hotchner. Call immediately. _Emily's stomach roiled. James had been here; the blood on the ground belonged to James.

Grabbing her purse, she started to move forward when Mudgie let out a growl. She heard the sound of a hammer being cocked back. And she froze. _Where was Dave?_ She wondered as she looked up at her probable assailant.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Frank asked, as he scanned Emily, his eyes lingering an extra second or two on her breasts. Emily tried to think of a way to escape, when Frank announced: "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Mudgie crouched down and bared his teeth. "Call that dog off!"

"I can't; he isn't mine."

Frank grinned stupidly. "What? You cook so bad that your husband doesn't trust you with a dog? And here I thought he was stupid, but he's pretty damn smart guy. I think I could like him…that is if we didn't have to kill him." Emily swallowed nervously and lowered her eyes. Frank continued. "See, your old man might be walking in, but he ain't walking out. It's gonna be a shame leaving such a pretty little thing like you behind."

Then it dawned on her: he thought she was weak and useless, and she could use that to her advantage. As long as he thouht he had the upper hand, she could formulate an escape plan. She knew what she had to do, and if Mudgie cooperated, once Dave gave the signal, she would make a break for the woods. But what if Dave didn't give a signal?

Emily gave herself a mental shake, she had to keep positive. Their assailants may have had the element of surprise on their side, but Emily and Dave were Federal agents with years of experience under their belts. Experience taught her she would have to wait. So Emily bided her time.

Meanwhile, Dave had made his way cautiously on to the porch. Immediately his eyes were focused on the pieces of broken glass. In the distance he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and Mudgie's low growl. Emily was caught. Unfortunately there wasn't anything he could do except move inside. He knew Emily could take care of herself.

Stepping lightly, he saw the front door was slightly ajar. Using his foot to nudge it open, he scanned the area and moved inside. His revolver and eyes made a simultaneous sweep of the room. He took in the manuscript spread out over the floor and the empty food containers on the dining room table. Two dishes sat empty. Dave mentally calculated two--possibly three UNSUBs.

A couple steps in; Dave mentally debated moving further into the house. He knew one of the UNSUBs was outside, but he didn't want to be trapped inside with a potential killer and no back up. But if he did get trapped he had to make sure that Emily got away. He just had to think of a way to let her know without giving away her potential hideaway should she escape.

"I wouldn't move if I were you old man," came a voice from out of the shadows. Dave's ears quickly tuned in and tried to pinpoint the UNSUB's location. Suddenly he was face to face with the armed man. Well aware that there was a gun leveled at his head, years of training kept Dave calm as he trained his revolver at his target.

"So, which one of us do you think is going to walk out of here alive?" George sneered. He hadn't been prepared for the cabin's occupants to be armed, but when he did the inventory, he realized that he and Frank had more than enough ammunition to make a clean get away. A shotgun, two rifles, and two pistols should be enough. But first he had to eliminate any and all witnesses. He looked Dave over with disdain. This was going to be so easy; the guy didn't even know how to hold a gun. He felt like a cat who had cornered an injured mouse; he was disappointed in a way, but he could still get enjoyment from it.

"Put your gun down," George ordered. As much pleasure as he had gotten from killing that deputy, it wasn't going to be close to what he was going to derive from killing Dave. "I said: Put down your gun. Now. Or your wife dies."

Slowly, and deliberately, Dave put his gun on the ground. Probably not his smartest move, but Dave had a plan. After all, wasn't he the one who wrote the book on hostage negotiations?

"What do you want?" Dave asked, trying to start a conversation. He had to kill time and try to throw the intruder off his game.

"Your truck for starters. Your money, and once I kill you, I'm gonna take your woman." George watched Dave's eyes narrow. "We'll take care of her, don't you worry none."

"You're the guys that broke out of the prison in Danville." It wasn't a question.

"You're a pretty smart guy. I wondered what that deputy was doing here earlier, guess he was giving you the heads up about me and Frank busting out."

"He told me you and your partner beat a prison officer and robbed a bank. Right now you only have those charges against you. You don't want to add murder to the list," Dave tried to reason. He needed a break, any opening to get the upper hand.

Dave caught a tiny crack in the UNSUB's façade, so he tried to appear fearful and submissive as he pleaded, "You don't have to hurt us; you can take whatever you want. We won't say anything; just let us live." The tiny crack widened. "No one has to get hurt."

George's mouth curled into a malicious sneer. "See, that is where you're wrong. Seems your deputy friend got a little curious and…I had to get rid of him." George unconsciously lowered his gun for a couple of seconds, and then raised it again. But that was the moment Dave had been hoping for.

With everything he had, Dave threw himself against George, knocking them both to the floor. It was a life or death struggle for the gun that had slipped out of George's hand. Dave delivered two skilled punches to George's head while trying to subdue him.

Abruptly George punched back twice as hard and Dave felt his head fill with stars as he took a blow to the jaw. He tried to shake it off, but that was all his attacker needed.

Without warning Dave felt himself get flipped over as he lost the upper hand. If he didn't do something fast, he was going to die. Emily was going to die. Finding strength somewhere deep inside, Dave brought his legs up and shoved George off and into the coffee table. He barely paid attention to the crack of the mahogany as George landed with a thud.

It was pure adrenaline that drove Dave to his feet as he shouted out to Emily in a way only she would understand: "Emily! Sono le sette in punto!" He tried to catch his breath. "Sono le sette in punto!" Before he could think, George was on him again.

Emily heard the scuffle from inside and it was all she could do to stand still and wait. So she tried to devise a plan on her own. Turning her head to the side, she made a disgusting retching sound as her stomach heaved.

Frank appeared worried. "What's wrong?" Emily's only reply was a retch. "Are you okay?"

"Morning sickness," Emily gasped. She covered her mouth to cover another heave. It seemed to be working as Frank stepped closer.

"You're pregnant?" Frank seemed skeptical, but since his knowledge of women ended on the statistics page of the Playboy centerfold page, he guessed she could be telling the truth.

"Two months." Emily retched into her hand again. While Frank appeared flummoxed, Mudgie understood. He had stopped growling and whining and assumed a crouching position. Emily had taken the focus off the dog and on to herself as she continued her act. Now she just had to draw Frank in a little closer.

Just when Emily thought she might actually have to heave breakfast onto her captor's feet, she heard Dave shout the warning. That was her signal.

Emily doubled over and Frank dropped his gun to help her. Without hesitation, Emily slammed her purse into Frank's head as Mudgie lurched forward and sank his teeth into Frank's thigh. Letting out an ear piercing scream, Frank fell to the ground, Mudgie still clamped tight as a vise.

Emily cast a glance at the door way and saw Dave struggle with the second guy. Debating whether to help, her mind was made up as she heard Dave shout his warning a second time. Drawing on her basic survival instinct, Emily quickly scanned the area and ran toward the woods. She prayed that Dave would be on her heels soon.

Emily was free. And while Mudgie continued his attack on Frank, Dave was fighting for his life. Going back to his days in Commack, Dave drew on his street wise fighting. As Frank delivered a powerful punch, Dave gave back two in return. Now that he had the upper hand, Dave pinched the jugular in George's neck.

George felt the world spin as flashes of light burst in front of his eyes. Just as he was about to go down, the sound of gun fire and a dog whimpering in pain caused Dave to break his concentration.

Mudgie!

Realizing he had to run, Dave let go of George and ran to the porch. He felt the bullet whiz by and hit the post behind him. Falling down the stairs, he jumped to his feet and ran like he had never run before. But never had his life flashed before his eyes as it was doing right now.

He heard the sound of a gun discharging and felt the slug go deep into his bicep. The pain was excruciating, but Dave continued running. As he busted thru the foliage and ducked the tree limbs, it dawned on him that he had broken his promise to Emily.

He'd make it up to her, but first he had to find her. Actually, he had to survive, and then find her.


	6. Chapter 6

**_I hope that last chapter was half as intense to read as it was to write. I had a little trouble trying to keep the time line accurate between Dave and Em's scenes, but I think I made it work. So Mudgie got shot trying to protect his master and friend. And Dave took a slug, too! But our profilers got away, and for the moment, that's what matters most. Now they have to conquer the woods! Don't you just love the suspense?_ _____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Despertar**

Emily had been running for so long she had just about lost track of time. Each step took her farther away from the criminal duo, but it also took her further away from Dave. What was that Marine saying? Never leave a man behind! She had wanted to stay and fight, but Dave ordered her into the woods, so she ran.

Feeling a sharp pain in her side, Emily slowed down and gasped for breath. Bent over, Emily tried to quell the nausea by taking deep breaths. _Where was Dave?_ She recalled hearing three gun shots in the distance but her mind was too busy trying to survive rather than analyze. Now she had the time to analyze and she didn't like where her imagination was going.

But she was away from the cabin and safe--for the moment. She recalled Dave teasing her about being afraid of the woods. Not afraid---although Emily would be the first to admit that maybe she had watched the Friday The 13th movies one too many times; she would like someone with her who was just a little bit familiar with the area. And who knew the woods better than Dave?

Could she make it on her own? Could she survive until help arrived? But how long would that be? Hotch had sent the message earlier that morning, but how long would it take before he realized that Dave hadn't called in? Hopefully the Sheriff's department would realize that James hadn't checked in and send a squad car out to locate him.

But that would depend on whether they knew he was heading back to Dave's cabin. Would they connect the two and contact Hotch? Emily sighed. Really, there was no evidence to suggest James and Dave would or could be connected. The cabin could be last on the list of possible search locations.

If nothing else, when she and Dave didn't show up to headquarters on Monday, there would be a search party out in full force. Emily brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. She was not going to cry! She was not going to show weakness. But she was alone. And she was afraid. She just wanted….

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rustling in the foliage. Feeling the hair rise on the back of her neck, her senses went on full alert. Opening her purse, she calmly withdrew her pistol and steadied an aim toward the sound. As the seconds ticked by, the noise got closer. Feet firmly planted, Emily refused to go down without a fight.

A sharp crash caused Emily to nearly jump out of her skin. Dave! Relieved and thankful, she threw the pistol to the ground as she ran up and threw her arms around him. Dave was alive! Breathing, living, strong, and alive! And she was holding him. She tried to comprehend it all but couldn't. So she held on tight. And then she cried.

Dave tried to get his thoughts together but couldn't. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, fatigue, and pain, he wasn't sure what to expect as he stumbled along the path, driven by pure adrenaline and determination. He didn't know if he was going to find Emily, but he figured if she stayed the course he would eventually run into her.

And he did. Trying to catch his breath, Dave just stood stock still as Emily threw herself into his arms and held him tight. Unaccustomed to such a blatant display of affection, he tried to figure out a way to untangle himself when he felt her body shake with sobs. _Ah damn!_ He could fight the bad guys, get shot, and run for his life, but tears always left him feeling discombobulated. Slowly and with much effort, Dave wrapped his arms around her as he let her cry it out.

"Shhh, Emily; it's okay," he soothed and stroked her back. "I'm okay. We made it." He felt her try to get herself under control. "Deep breath. In. Out. It's alright." He released her as she pulled back.

He took in her disheveled appearance, and noticed the small cuts across her face---cuts caused by running thru bushes and brush. He felt the anger well up inside toward the men that had caused this. He had been caught off guard but once he got his bearings, he was going to make sure that they paid for what they did to James, Mudgie, and Emily. He started to reach out to brush away the tear on Emily's cheek and stopped himself.

"Feel better?" he asked. Emily nodded. "Good. We have to keep moving." He bent over and picked up the pistol and tucked it in his waistband. Looking at the rapidly darkening sky, he frowned. Great! On top of everything else, they didn't need rain.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked.

"It's going to rain." Emily rolled her eyes in response. "This could help us, but we are going to have to find shelter. I know somewhere we can go; it's about a half a mile this way," Dave pointed to the northeast.

Wordlessly, they started off. The only sound was the crunching and breaking of leaves and sticks under their feet. As much as Emily wanted to ask him what had happened back at the cabin, she knew that it could wait. She knew the sound of her voice could camouflage the sound of approaching footsteps. Once they were hidden, there would be plenty of time to talk.

As they trudged along, Dave noticed a few rain drops and sped up the pace. A couple hundred feet from shelter, the skies opened up and let loose with a torrent of rain. Grasping Emily's hand, Dave forced her to pick up speed as he ran toward what appeared to be a small wooden shack.

Bursting thru the door, Dave and Emily stood in silence as they listened to the storm and tried to catch their breath. Emily found herself sizing up the situation, the shack, and how the fussy David Rossi looked like a drowned cat! Unable to control herself, she started laughing. Embarrassed, she tried to stop, but only found herself laughing harder.

Perplexed, Dave watched her display of hysteria. "What's so funny?"

Emily wiped the tears from her eyes. "You. I wish I had a camera right now. You look like a wet cat."

"Is that so?" Dave puffed and gave her a once over. "Well, Ms Prentiss, you don't look any better."

"I know. But it's still funny." In all the ways he managed to irritate her with his neat-freak ways and quirks, she took delight that he was unkempt, and messy in a totally unflattering way. Yet, some how, as he stood before her in soaking wet clothing, his hair plastered to his head, he came off as even more dark and handsome. Emily felt the laughter fade as her heart inexplicably picked up speed.

Dave noticed the serious tone and started to ask what the problem was when he suddenly felt the world begin to spin. He had to sit down. Blindly he reached for Emily's arm for support. Caught unaware by his faint, Emily struggled to hold him upright.

"Dave! What's wrong?" She looked around the room and saw the single cot off in the corner. Finding a way to balance his large frame against her slender one, Emily guided him to the cot and helped him sit down. Immediately she shed his leather jacket and assessed him for injuries. Her eyes fell on the blood red stain on Dave's upper left shirt sleeve.

Without hesitation, she ripped the sleeve open. _Oh Dave, they did get you!_ Her eyes filled with tears as she applied direct pressure without trying to cause him more pain. They were going to get out of there and when they did, she was going to make those bastards pay---pay for James and Dave. And suddenly it dawned on her that she had not seen Mudgie.

Dabbing at the blood, Emily unabashedly let the tears fall. _Mudgie was gone._ With a heavy heart, she listed Mudgie in the roll call of people she was going to exact vengeance for. Let Strauss take her badge and credentials, but they were going to pay for all of this hell. It was the least she could since she owed that dog her life.

But until then, she had to shelve any ideas of revenge and take care of her partner, her friend. Carefully, Emily lay Dave down on the cot and removed his shoes. Looking at his face, she was not surprised that he had passed out. With all that he had been thru, it was a miracle he had had the stamina to keep going until he found her.

For a long while Emily watched Dave breath. In. Out. In. Out. The steady rythmic rise and fall of his chest helped her start relaxing.

The storm violently raged outside and as long as it did, they were safe. A small comfort. Emily wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the chill. They needed warmth, but a fire was out of the question. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew that gunshot wounds could become infected very quickly. If Dave started to run a fever, how could she possibly get him back to the road to get help?

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Dave involuntarily shiver in his sleep. Biting her lower lip, she knew what she had to do, but that didn't make it any less awkward. After a quick debate of the pros and cons of FBI protocol, Emily kicked off her shoes, shed her wet coat, and grabbed Dave's jacket. It was still damp, but it would dry. Something was better than nothing.

Trying to be as gentle as possible without disturbing Dave and his wound, Emily managed to wedge herself between his back and the wall. Considering the accommodations, Emily managed to find a level of comfort as she drew the jacket over Dave's shoulder. Satisfied that she had done as she could, Emily placed her arm around his waist to draw him closer to her body heat.

Closing her eyes, Emily listened to Dave's breathing and the rain. In those two things, she found comfort as she let herself drift off.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Anyone who lives in the mountains won't be surprised by the unexpected gulley washer that bombarded Dave and Emily. Trust me, they can get pretty bad. But it does delay the bad guys from going out after our profilers. Unfortunately, it does mean that they will be taking residence in Dave's cabin. Orkin is going to have a heck of a time fumigating that place when all is said and done! Well, James hasn't checked in for shift change and now the ball is going to start rolling. Plus, Dave gets the last laugh on the crooks and their get away plans. Sweet!_**

* * *

**Despertar**

An eerie silence fell over the Luray Sheriff's department. For the past hour Sheriff Ronald "Gonzo" Gonzalez had patiently made calls to the Sheriff departments in Manassas, Royal, and Waynesboro trying to locate his deputy. James was a good kid, a little goofy and nerdy, but overall a hard working and dedicated young man. Sheriff Gonzalez could see young James taking over the responsibilities if and when he should ever decide to retire.

Another call and another disappointment. Maybe he had gotten caught up in the storm and pulled over at the diner in Royal. "Buck!" Gonzo called out to the deputy on desk duty. "Do you remember the number to the Rosie's Diner in Royal?"

"I'll get them on the phone ASAP!" Buck replied.

Gonzo looked at the weather radar on his computer screen. Yes! The storm was moving out. Once it did, he and his boys could get out and look for James. He knew how it appeared, but that little group in Luray had practically grown up together, played football together, and Sheriff Gonzalez had watched it all from a far. He had even caught them in a couple of sticky situations. But they straightened out and when they decided to pursue law enforcement, he took them under his wing---he was their "father", and he regarded them as the sons he and his wife could never have.

God have mercy if anything happened to James!

"Sheriff; I got Rosie on line one," Buck called out. Hanging up, he began writing the possible places James could be. He knew the gulley washers in the mountains could be hell, and he hoped that James hadn't been caught in a flash flood and swept down into a ravine.

Gonzo pressed the line. "Hey Rosie. Gonzo here. By any chance did Deputy Hayes come into your place to escape the storm?....Uh huh....When was the last time you saw him?" Gonzo straightened up in surprise. "Really? Okay. Okay. Call me if he comes in. Bye." He hung up the phone.

Buck stood up and walked over. "What's wrong?"

"She said he came in earlier, put in a lunch order to pick up later, but never showed up."

"That's not right; Jimbo has never forgotten to pick up a lunch order."

Gonzo's expression changed dramatically. "Get the guys on the line and tell them to get in here on the double!"

Buck rushed to complete the order. Within 20 minutes the two other deputies rushed thru the front door, shaking rain from their slickers. Quickly they were briefed on James' sudden and unexplained disappearance. As they racked their brains, a light bulb came on for Deputy Taft.

"Wait a minute! I think I know where he might have been going. I took a phone call earlier from the FBI; a guy named Hatcher or Thatcher was trying to get hold of an Agent Rossi. Said it was important. James said he was heading that way for lunch and would drop off the message."

"Do you remember the time?"

"1000 hours. Or somewhere about."

Gonzo looked at Buck. "I'm on it!" Within minutes Buck had the FBI on the line.

"Hello. This is Sheriff Gonzalez down in Luray. I am looking for an Agent Hatcher. Yes, I'll hold." Long pause. "You don't have one? How about an Agent Thatcher? Okay, thanks for your help." Gonzo hung up the phone. "No one by that name works at the FBI."

"What do we do now? We can't leave him out there!" Deputy Jackson pleaded.

Gonzo shook his head. "The sun is setting and with the rain we got, there could be rock slides or mudslides. We can't risk it in the dark. Let me make some calls and see if we can't get a search crew up for tomorrow."

"Already on it Sheriff!" Buck called from the other room. Lost and unsure what to do, the three men stood around looking at the floor, the wall---anywhere but at each other. Gonzo looked at his watch. There was still another hour before the shift ended. He couldn't handle the boys being melancholy, so he sent them to finish filing and paper work.

Sitting at the desk, Gonzo threw his feet up on the desk and stared off into space.

* * *

Dave's cabin looked as though a tornado had swept thru. Desk drawers lay on the floor, some broken, some still intact, but their contents strewn all over. The couch cushions lay in a pile by the front door. Chairs were over turned, and the book shelves swept clear.

"Have you found them yet?" George called out to Frank who was busy searching the upstairs rooms.

"Nothing."

"Did you try the truck?"

"Yep."

"I'll go check again to make sure." George stepped outside on the porch and took in the sight of the storm damage. He had forgotten about rainstorms in the mountains. Just as he had gotten himself back up to par and tried to take off after Emily and Dave he got caught in the gulley washer.

The strong wind and rain had halted his tracking, but he figured he could go looking for them tomorrow. If he had it his way, he would hunt them down and gut them for the hell they had put him and Frank through. What was wrong with people just doing what they were told? It could have worked out for everyone and he and Frank would be on their merry way.

Now they couldn't even do that since they couldn't find the truck keys. Yanking open the driver's side door, George started searching under the seats, behind, and in the glove compartment. He even tried the visors. What kind of guy didn't put a spare key on the visor?

Jerking up, his head accidentally hit the roof. Suddenly a voice filled the cab.

"Mr. Rossi, this is OnStar. Are you alright?" George was taken aback. "Mr. Rossi, are you requiring medical assistance?"

"Uh--no. I seemed to have misplaced my keys and I can't seem to start the truck." Sounded as good an excuse as any.

"I'm sorry to hear that sir. I can start your car from here. Can I have your PIN please?"

"My what?"

"Your PIN."

George tried to think quickly. "I don't have it on me. See, my wife got hurt while we were hunting, and I lost my wallet. I really have to get her to the hospital."

"I'm sorry to hear that sir. I could notify EMS and send them out to help."

"No! I mean, she shouldn't be moved. If I could just get the truck started, I could take her in myself. We could get there faster." Why the hell couldn't the bitch just start the friggin truck? What if it was an actual emergency?

"Well, Mr. Rossi, since you don't have your PIN, could I have the last four of your social?"

George was at his wits end! "Listen you uppity know it all bitch! Either you start the truck now, or I will hunt you down and beat the shit out of you! Do you understand me?"

Shocked silence was the operator's only reply for a long moment. A male voice came on the line. "Mr. Rossi, I am going to switch your call over to the Sheriff's department in Luray. Please hold."

Frustrated, George stepped out of the truck cab, aimed his pistol and shot the receiver. Clenching his fists, he stared up into the night sky and screamed. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Frank came running outside. "What's wrong?"

"That son of a bitch took the keys! That's what's wrong!" He kicked the truck repeatedly until he couldn't kick any more.

"Now what do we do?"

"As soon as the sun comes up, we find them, kill them, get the keys, and leave this shit hole!" There was no doubt in his mind that when he got hold of _Mr. Rossi_, George was going to make him and his old lady wish they had never been born.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner was spending a quiet Sunday morning reading the paper at the kitchen table. But he barely paid attention to the headlines as he watched Jack dig in the cereal box for the prize. It wasn't everyday a boy got a Buzz Lightyear cereal spoon.

Hotch knew he should be upset at the cereal strewn over the table, but the mess was nothing compared to the way Jack's face lit up when he triumphantly held the cellophane wrapped spoon.

"Dad! Look! I found it!" Hotch felt tears prick his eyes at the way his son's eyes sparkled with joy. _Do you see him Haley?_ He wondered not for the first time. Suddenly his cell phone rang. Grabbing it, he motioned for Jack to tone it down.

"Hotchner here."

"Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss."

"Yes, Director, how might I help you?"

"I need you to assemble your team and meet me in my office."

"Yes ma'am. You are aware that it is Sunday?"

"I am _quite_ cognizant of that fact Agent Hotchner. This is an emergency and I need you and your team here immediately. There is to be no further discussion; is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am. Uh Director Strauss, you are aware that two of my team are out of town at the moment?"

There was a long pause as though Erin Strauss was looking for just the right words. "This is about those two members, Agent Hotchner," she replied tightly, then disconnected the call.

Stunned speechless, Hotch tried to gather his bearings. _What had Strauss said?_

"Dad! Look, my spoon lights up! You wanna try it?"

"Jack, something came up and I have to go into work. I'm going to call your Aunt Jessica to come stay here with you until I get back."

Jack dropped his shoulders. "That's okay. I understand."

Hotch knelt down so he could be eye level with Jack. "Jack, I know that we had planned to go out. I didn't mean for this to happen. When I get back I'll make it up to you. How about Chuck E. Cheese?"

Immediately Jack's face lit up. "Okay. Promise?"

Hotch gave Jack a thumbs up, to which Jack did the same. Touching thumbs, they sealed the deal. "Now finish your breakfast while I make some phone calls, okay champ?"

Jack jumped into the chair and eagerly attacked his cereal bowl. Stepping out of the kitchen, Hotch pressed a number and waited. "Hello, Garcia? I know it's Sunday. Contact the others; we have been called in. I understand. Oh, Garcia, don't worry about contacting Rossi and Prentiss. I'll explain when we get there."

Then he hit end.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry about the break. Had to get myself back on track after those last two chapters. I am so glad that OnStar scene worked. I love being able to fit life experiences into my stories---I think it brings a bit more realism to everything. So, where are we? James is dead, Mudgie's been shot, Dave is shot, and the team has been called in on a Sunday; how's that for drama? Just to let you know, if Dave doesn't seem to be making much sense, he is running a fever. Hopefully help will get to them soon._

* * *

**Despertar**

David Rossi was having the weirdest dream. He was in the shower but one side of his body was cold, while the other was burning up. He couldn't turn around and no matter how he tried to turn off the spigot, the water kept coming.

Slowly as he came back into consciousness, Dave realized the heat he felt was from a warm body pressed up against his back, and it wasn't a shower he had been hearing, but the rain outside. Another storm had moved in during the night, and was coming down heavily. Dave sighed. This weekend had definitely not turned out the way he had intended. Okay, that was the understatement of the year! In one day he managed to lose his friend, his dog, and nearly lost his co-worker and his life. It would make for a great book, if it wasn't so crazy and real.

A light snoring broke into Dave's thoughts. Emily. He owed her more than he could ever repay. He was a little foggy after they made it to the shack, but bits and pieces of her helping him to the cot and tending to his wound came back. He didn't know how she had managed to keep it together. Most of the women he had married or dated relied on him to be the strong one, but not Emily Prentiss. She had stayed cool, calm, and collect during the whole ambush, and followed a direct order without question.

It had taken only 30 seconds to size the UNSUB up to realize that there was no way Emily could have taken him on and won. Hell, he had barely escaped with his life. Emily might be tough, but she was no match for a guy standing six-four and weighing well over 200 pounds. Dave rubbed his eyes as he remembered the guy's remarks. There is no doubt that they would have killed Dave, and what he and his partner had in store for Emily would have made hell look inviting.

Unconsciously, Dave stroked Emily arm which was still thrown over his waist and he shivered while trying to banish all thoughts of what would have happened had he failed. No! Dave reprimanded himself. He didn't fail; they had gotten away and were safe---as long as the rain continued to fall.

Speaking of rain, oh, he had to make a head call. Quietly and gently as possible, Dave moved Emily's arm and sat up. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but it was dark outside so it had to have been more than a few hours. Standing, he slid his shoes on and made his way across the floor. As he opened the door he cast an eye toward the sleeping Emily. And he shook his head. She should be alright for a couple of minutes. Lightly he closed the door behind him.

Even in her sleep, Emily's protective sense was on full alert. Lazily she reached for her partner and came up empty. Suddenly wide awake, she sat up and looked around. Dave! Oh god! Swinging her legs over the side of the cot, Emily grabbed her boots and tried to lace them up, but her fingers had suddenly turned into thumbs.

She didn't know where Dave was, but she had to get out of there. But where? She didn't know the territory and had no idea how to make her way back to the main road, much less Dave's cabin. Where were Hotch and the team? She couldn't believe no one was looking for them. Oh, someone was looking for them, and those were the last two people she wanted to run into.

Finally, after a considerable effort, Emily had her boots laced and tied. Standing up, she grabbed her coat from the floor and slipped it on. Still damp, but she didn't care. She was going to get a head start. Turning the door handle, she screamed in shock and fright as the door burst open and a figure walked in.

Strong hands grasped her shoulders. "Emily! It's me, Dave. It's okay."

Emily tried to quell her rising hysteria. "Oh my god! You scared the hell out me!"

"What are you doing up?"

"I woke up and found you gone. I had to get out of here before they found me." Emily's words rambled and made no sense, but Dave got the gist of her meaning. She was scared. With more tenderness than he thought himself possible of, he drew her into his arms and held her. He reasoned it was the least he could do after scaring another decade off her life expectancy.

"I had to step outside for a moment. Some things don't go on hold just because bad guys are chasing us." Slowly he stroked her back and helped her relax. It seemed to help as he felt the tension slowly leave her body.

Emily closed her eyes and breathed in Dave. Usually he smelled good, but this was the first time she had ever been near enough to totally breathe in his cologne. Lord, she could stay this way forever. _Whoa! Where had that thought come from?_ Emily scolded herself. They were on the run from escaped convicts determined to kill them; now was not the time to be fantasizing about her friend and partner.

Still, she couldn't help but think how good Dave's arms felt around her. No matter what was happening out in the real world, Emily was safe and secure. And delusional! Groaning silently in frustration, she pulled away from Dave.

"Feeling better?" Dave asked. Emily was thankful for the dark room so Dave couldn't see how she refused to look him in the eye.

Her breath came out shuddered. "Yeah. A little. I think my heart is back to its normal rhythm." Emily tried to joke but who was she kidding? David Rossi had held her! How could her heart ever go back to normal rhythm again? "If it's all right, I am going to step outside for a moment of two."

"It's still raining," Dave advised.

"That's okay." She hoped the rain would cool her down. Opening the door, she stepped outside into the storm. And left Dave with his thoughts.

What the hell just happened? Dave asked himself and walked over to the cot. Groaning, he sat down and buried his face in hands--trying to banish the feeling of Emily in his arms. Not likely. He would probably have a better chance taking on both UNSUBS than forgetting how Emily's body fit against his so perfectly. What was he thinking hugging Emily? Had he lost his mind? How many blows had he taken yesterday during the fight? He had tried so hard to bury his lothario past and the moment he let his defenses down, he makes a move on his partner.

Before he could analyze it further, the door opened and Emily stumbled back inside. Shaking the rain off, she took off her coat and hung it on the door knob. Wordlessly she stepped over to the cot and sat down. Dave felt himself involuntarily move aside.

"It's picked up out there," Emily casually remarked.

"It gets like that in the mountains. Especially during this time of the year. The locals call them 'gulley washers'. All this rain could cover our tracks for a while since I don't think they are going to brave the weather to find and kill us. On the other hand, the roads could be washed out so we can't count on help finding us."

"I know." Emily didn't want to think about it. "How is your arm?"

"Hurts like hell, although I'm glad he is a worse shot than a fighter."

"Me too."

An awkward silence filled the room.

"Dave--"

"Emily--"

"Sorry," Emily apologized. "What were you going to say?"

Dave was at a loss for words. What had he planned to say? Before he could respond, his stomach growled. "You wouldn't happen to have any food in that survival kit of yours?"

"It's a purse, not a survival kit."

"I've had wives; 'purse' is a misnomer. Is there anything you women can't shove in those things?"

"We don't put everything in them," Emily argued grateful that the mood had lightened up. Reaching over she grabbed the purse and opened it. Digging thru the contents, she searched for the Butterfinger she had bought at the diner on a whim. Who knew that it would come in handy?

"In the Marines, women's handbags were deemed lethal weapons. One time we weighed a purse just for the hell of it and would you believe it came in at 14 pounds?"

Laughing, Emily unwrapped the candy bar and broke it in half. "Seriously? What was in there, bricks?" She handed the larger piece to Dave.

"I don't know. We were too afraid to open it and find out."

"She could have been sneaking out ABMs for all you know."

Dave took a bite of the candy bar. "Uh uh. I found out early in life there are a few things you don't snoop around in: garbage cans, diaries, and women's purses."

"Smart man."

Dave finished and wiped his hands on his jeans. "So, how did you get away?"

"I hit him with my purse," Emily casually remarked and popped the remainder of the candy in her mouth. Dave chuckled. "Don't laugh. It just so happens I had my pistol in there, so I can't take all the credit."

Together they sat on the cot in silence and listened to the rain. Both of them had so much to say to one another, but didn't know where to start. Unable to wait, Emily decided to get everything off her chest, just in case she didn't get another chance.

"I…want to apologize for ruining your weekend. I don't know why you asked me out here to go hunting, but I guess you had your reasons. I can't help but think that had you come here alone, you would have been up early and hunting and…all of this could have been avoided. James would still be alive…and Mudgie too. Maybe you would have been out in the woods getting a duck or something and would have missed crossing paths with those…" Emily's words faded off as her voice choked with tears. Her heart hurt so much.

"This isn't your fault, Emily. You didn't cause this," Dave gently reprimanded. There was no way he was going to let her take on the guilt of what happened. "This is the result of two guys who are desperate to get away and thru the alignment of fate or misfortune, our paths were destined to cross."

"But I never wanted to go hunting," Emily confessed. "I overslept so we couldn't get an early start."

"No you didn't. I let you. I was up before the alarm went off. I had heard a helicopter and wondered what was going on. When I went to get Mudgie to let him out, you were sleeping so soundly that I figured you needed your rest. Hunting is my hobby, not my passion. I would have gladly worked on my manuscript all day instead of traipsing thru the woods." Dave covered Em's hand with his. "Whether you woke up on time or didn't come at all wouldn't have made a difference. If nothing else, you being here probably saved my life."

He let her digest that before continuing. "If anyone is sorry, it would be me for brow-beating you to come along. I knew you had no desire, but I figured you could rest and learn to relax and I could learn more about you. To be honest, I wanted you to come because I like you Emily."

Emily wasn't sure how to reply. They had both escaped death, shared a cot, and a candy bar. Now Dave was sitting beside her and telling her that despite everything that had happened she mattered. Her brain tried to think of a response, but came up blank. So instead, Emily leaned in and kissed him.

Dave pulled back the moment her lips touched his. "Emily---" he began.

Emily gave herself a mental kick. Licking her lips nervously, she kept her eyes downcast so he couldn't see her embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Pulling back, she made sure she and Dave had more than enough space between them.

"It's okay," Dave replied. But it wasn't. He paused, searching for the right words as Emily pretended to examine her fingernails. "Look, I've had more one night stands than the law allows, and if we give into the feeling…the desire we think we're feeling right now---no matter how much we think we want it---it could change everything and make it impossible to go back to what we had before. Trust me, I know."

Dave reached out and touched Emily's hair. "We are running on emotion and adrenaline and fear, and that is a recipe for disaster because it would be pity sex. And I don't do that. When I take a woman to bed, I want to make love to her and I want the same in return. Especially if I like her and want to get to know her better." There, he had thrown the gauntlet down. Let her chew on that for a while. Rubbing his eyes, he suddenly felt exhausted. And his arm hurt so damn much!

Immediately, Emily was standing beside him. "Dave are you okay?"

"I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

"Let me check your wound." Emily untied the fabric bandage she had made and tried to make out the injury. Without a window to let in light, she had to strain to see what she was doing in the grey light that filtered thru tiny cracks in the wall. Laying her hand against Dave's skin, it felt warm to the touch.

"I don't like this Dave; I think it's getting infected. We need to get out of here."

"Not in the rain," he argued. "It's not going to benefit us if we both get ill." He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He barely paid attention to Emily opening the door and wetting the rag to press against his skin. The cool contact was almost painful. Emily was right, he thought to himself, they needed to get out of there, but he felt so bad.

"We ran in two separate directions, so that is going to throw them off for a while. As soon as it clears up, we'll leave and try to make our way to the road."

Emily started to argue, but never had she known David Rossi to back down or hesitate from a fight; he had to really be hurting. "Okay." She helped him lie down and placed the jacket over his upper body. Brushing a hand over his forehead, she noticed he was only slightly cooler than his arm. This was not good.

"Get some rest and as soon as it stops raining, we'll leave."

With effort, Dave looked up at Emily. "Thank you."

"You can thank me when we get out of this place," she replied.

His response was a small smile then he closed his eyes and drifted off. Emily sat at the end of the cot and watched him. And she waited.


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, good news: The team is officially on the case! I know this chapter is a little longer than usual, but I wanted to bring everything up to date before moving back to Dave and Emily. The ball is now rolling and the horrible realization that James is dead just hit home. I am sorry that this chapter took so long to get posted; I wanted to make sure I caught the essence of the team just right. And for those of you angry at Frank shooting Mudgie, our beloved pooch gets his revenge._

* * *

**Despertar**

George took another look out the window as lightning streaked the sky. "God! I hate these freakin mountains!" He let the drapes drop as he walked back over to the fireplace. Pulling the grate back, he used the poker to move the log and add another. Replacing the grate, he went over and sat down on the couch.

Frank was over in the corner fiddling with the radio. So far they had only been able to get in a Country & Western tribute program and Dave Ramsey. After moving the knob up and down the scale a dozen times, he settled on the honky tonk sounds of Hank Williams, Sr.

"You have to be frickin kidding me," George remarked. "What the hell is this crap?"

Frank looked insulted. "Everybody knows Hank. He's the guy who put legend in the word legend."

"The closest I ever got to country was my grandma making me sit down and watch the Barbara Mandrell show when we went to visit her on Saturday nights." The only normalcy in his young life and he didn't like to think about it because it reminded him of how it all turned to hell once his grandma passed away and his mother hooked up with that loser who loved to beat him for any reason.

Frank's eyes brightened. "Barbara--now that woman could sing a song like nobody's business. But that sister of hers was hot! But not as hot as Dolly. Damn! What I give to see her in a centerfold. Of course her tits might take up the whole frame, but ain't that about the only thing worth giving a woman a second look?"

George paid little attention as his thoughts went from childhood beatings to Emily. "I can't believe I missed her old man."

"Whose old man? Dolly?"

George gave Frank a baffled look. "No dumb ass; that Rossi bitch."

Frank thought a moment. "Oh. She's definitely hotter than Dolly; that's for damn sure!" The song ended and Willie Nelson came on. 'Blue Eyes Cryin' In The Rain' wailed thru the room.

George threw the book across the room. "Of all the places we had to hide at…I feel like I'm doing time in 'Austin City freakin' Limits'! Damnit! Isn't there anything else on?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," Frank replied defensively. "I can't help it if the guy ain't got nothing' here but a radio that don't work and nothing in the fridge but wine and some frozen shit. Maybe if you had shot him instead of bullshittin' with him we could have been gone already!"

George stood up and took a menacing step toward Frank. "Yeah, well I'm not the one who got fooled by a stupid bitch pretending to throw up!"

"She told me she was pregnant!"

"What if she had told you that you look like Johnny Depp, would you have believed her?"

"Well at least I didn't choose a house with no food. We ain't got no car, no phone, no food, and you're calling me stupid? I ought to kick your ass."

"Bring it on. I've had to put up with enough these past few days; I'm tired of putting up with you and your crap."

Frank went to stand up and yelped out as a nauseating pain jolted thru him. "Son of a bitch!" he bit out thru clenched teeth and sat back down.

"What? Now you want sympathy? You threatened to kick my ass; what are you waiting for?"

"It's where that friggin dog bit me." Frank leaned back in the chair. "God it hurts!" He had cleaned it out with the bottle of hand sanitizer he had found in the bathroom but it seemed to be getting worse.

"That's another reason we need to get those keys and get the hell out of here."

Frank grimaced in pain as he stood up. He felt the need to try and talk some sense into his partner. "George, why don't we just call it quits and hike up to the road and leave this place? We have guns and money. We could get out of here."

"Be my guest. You think the law ain't looking for us? Hitch a ride if you think you can, but I am going to finish what I started. This whole thing could have been over in a couple of minutes, but that damn deputy had to show up."

Thunder rumbled in the distance and a flash of lightning lit up the sky like a strobe light. "Look, I don't know why you killed that kid--I guess you had your reasons. You want to settle things with that guy and his old lady, okay, and you need my help? Okay. But I ain't going out in that and getting hit by lightning. Especially if I don't know where they are. If we are going, we go when this rain stops." Frank started toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" George demanded.

"To take a shower and see if I can find some thing to take this pain away. Then I'm going to crash. I don't feel good." Frank slowly made his way up the stairs and disappeared.

George walked over to the bookcase beside the fireplace. His hands were clenched in painful fists. Nothing he had planned turned out the way he expected. All he wanted to do was escape and make his way back to Manassas before he and Frank made their way to Canada. But then he had to run into Mr Rossi and his old lady.

The two people who couldn't just go with the flow; they decided they could take on him and Frank. Who did they think they were? Heroes? He was going to keep his promise of getting out of this place, but first he was going to settle some scores. He was sure he could drag their suffering on for quite some time before letting them die. In fact… his thoughts were interrupted as his gaze stopped on a book. David Rossi. The name jumped out at him.

Pulling the book out, he flipped it open and scanned a couple of pages before he turned to the dust jacket and the short bio on the bottom leaf. The more he read, the more his face darkened. Closing the book, he smiled. Oh yeah, this totally changed the game plan. It completely changed everything.

* * *

Sheriff Nelson stepped forward with the coffee pot. "Any of you guys want a refill?" Morgan and JJ nodded and held out their cups. Usually they didn't try to consume coffee while setting up a profile of the UNSUB(s) because they were out in the field or reconstructing the crime scene. By now they would have set up a profile of the victims and the possible connections they could have had with the UNSUB(s) and how the team could possibly move in to prevent another crime.

But these victims were Rossi and Prentiss and a deputy. Which now made the whole situation personal. During their quick briefing with Director Strauss, they were informed that although Rossi and Prentiss were involved, they were not to make this case personal. They were to maintain an air of decorum and professionalism and remember that the reputation of the FBI rested on their shoulders.

It had taken everything in Morgan not to say what was on his mind. He had started to open his mouth when Hotch spoke up first. He thanked the director and got the team out of the office and into the FBI vehicles. Once on the road, they started brain storming the possible scenarios that could have befallen their co-workers.

Garcia had gotten in touch with Kentucky and pulled up the criminal histories of George Wilson and Frank Carter. Their records were pretty much identical: Petty crimes, numerous B&Es, shoplifting, and one D&D apiece. They were serving 6 years for parole violation at the minimum security facility in Danville. Frank Carter was up for parole in six months for good behaviour, while George Wilson had another sixteen months left on his sentence. Although they were not "hardened" criminals, they were not boy scouts either.

Both had been raised in single parent households. Frank's father had abandoned him when he was 9, and George's father was killed in a bar brawl over a game of pool. Both had been in and out of foster homes. At 18 George moved from Manassas to Ohio and started committing petty crimes there. Where as Frank, born and raised in Kentucky, decided to commit his crimes a little closer to home. It was in Danville that the two met.

Garcia also managed to get a copy of the OnStar conversation. As they listened to George try to cajole, and then verbally abuse the operator, it was pretty evident that they were dealing with criminals not only desperate but willing to do whatever it took to escape.

"After the operator transferred the call here, I thought the FBI needed to hear it. I had no idea that two of the people involved were---are FBI agents," Sheriff Gonzalez offered.

"I don't understand; I left a message for Agent Rossi early on Saturday to contact me. I put down that it was important. Didn't he receive it?" Hotch asked.

Gonzo felt his face turn red but he was not going to apologize. "Deputy Hamilton took the message and passed it on to Deputy Hayes. I don't know if it was received. But since my deputy and your agents are missing, I am going to venture that it wasn't."

"Why were we not contacted earlier?" Morgan asked.

"Because we didn't think that a crime had occurred. We get rains like this a lot and it's normal for a deputy to pull over and wait for it to pass. Plus I only have 3 deputies now that James is missing. The roads were under flood alert, and I couldn't risk the lives of my men."

"But there was an urgent message for a Federal agent to contact another Federal agent. That didn't make you wonder that something wasn't up?"

"Morgan--" Hotch warned. He knew what Morgan was thinking, but there was no fault for what had happened.

Gonzo felt his temper rise. "Are you implying that I put the life of my deputy above your friends? How dare you believe that I think one life is more important than another?" Gonzo took a step forward. "You might be Fed, but you are in my office and in my town. And as far as I can see, this is not federal---yet. You want to play FBI somewhere? Then go to Kentucky; last I heard, a credit union was held up at gun point."

"This is federal! Two of our agents are out there with criminals on the run!"

"And so is one of my deputies!" Gonzo roared back. "Maybe you can come into somewhere and do things the way you want because you are Fed, but it doesn't work that way here. That deputy out there, who delivered your message out of the kindness of his heart because that is the kind of guy he is, is like my own son. And you better damn well believe that I will move heaven and hell to find him. But don't you dare tell me that I am not doing my job because I'm not bending over backwards to send search teams out for your friends."

"Yet you waited before contacting us?"

"I tried to contact the FBI and they told me they had no one working there with your name." Gonzo nodded at Hotch.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. "That was my fault," Buck spoke up. All eyes turned to him. "I took the message, but I couldn't remember your name. I thought it was Hatcher or Thatcher. It wasn't the Sheriff's fault. He did try to call to find out about Agent Rossi and where he might be vacationing. So, if you want to blame some one, blame me."

JJ tried to make peace. "No one is blaming any one. This is a difficult situation for everyone. What we need now is to have Garcia do what she can to locate Deputy Hayes's patrol car."

"That should narrow the search for him down considerably," Hotch finished.

Reid spoke up. "If I can get a map of the area, I might be able to estimate where they might be---if they got away."

Buck stepped forward. "Come with me; I'll show you." Together they left the room, leaving the others to stand around in defensive silence.

"Sheriff Gonzalez and Nelson, if you will stay with Agent Jarreau and co-ordinate an air search party. Plus notify Strauss and let her know that we may need more agents."

Gonzo looked at him skeptically. "We could get a local search party out here in no time."

Hotch nodded appreciatively. "And I thank you for the offer Sheriff, but it's possible that these two men are armed and dangerous. We can't have citizens traipsing thru the woods as possible targets or hostages. We have to assume that they've killed one or more people. They are going to feel cornered enough with out adding more to the situation. If they are holding any of my team or your deputy as hostages, overwhelming them with dozens of people could cause a firestorm. They wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone. We need to put the hostages first."

"What's a helicopter going to do?"

"Give us an aerial view of the layout of the woods. I know that Agent Rossi is a pretty resourceful guy and he would have something set up---such as a shack---as a back up plan. We need to locate anything out of the ordinary."

"Okay."

Hotch looked at Morgan. "If you'll go with the two deputies, I want you to start setting up for the arrival of the other agents and stay in contact with Garcia. I want to know the moment they arrive. I'll be with Deputy Johnson out at Rossi's place."

Hotch walked out of the office and joined Reid and Buck in the back office. Almost like clockwork things started moving.

As Sheriff Nelson started making calls, JJ began dialing Director Strauss from Buck's desk.

"Are you guys always like this?" Gonzo inquired.

JJ paused in her dialing. "Like how?"

"In synch. Like you could almost read each other's mind."

JJ gave him her dazzling smile that was known to settle arguments in the office and during press conferences. "We're good at what we do."

"Good enough to get my guy and your guys back?"

"I'm not going to lie to you; it doesn't look good, but once we get everything up and running, it's a promise that the team will not stop until we get everyone back."

Gonzo felt tears burn his eyes. "Thank you Agent Jarreau."

"Call me JJ." She looked around. "Um, I'm going to need a couple legal pads and pens to get this set up." Actually she had everything she needed in the SUV, but she could tell the Sheriff was hurting and she decided to keep him busy.

"Okay." As he started to walk off, JJ resumed dialing. As she lifted the receiver to her ear, Gonzo turned back around. "Would you care for a bear claw or donut?"

JJ pulled the receiver down to nod. "That would be wonderful Thank you." Then she turned back to her call. "Director Strauss? It's Agent Jarreau. I have an update; we are going to need a Fed search party. Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. I have that information right here."

* * *

Hotch and Deputy Johnson pulled up in the long driveway which lead to Dave's cabin. Garcia had sent the GPS coordinates to both Deputy Hayes's patrol car and Dave's truck. Seeing that the road was nearly impassable they decided to stop and walk on foot.

Quietly and with caution, they followed the directions on Hotch's blackberry. Twenty five minutes later they stood beside the empty patrol car. Handing the deputy a pair of gloves, they began their investigation.

Opening the driver's side door, Hotch ducked inside and did a quick inventory. "What kind of weapons do you carry?"

"One side arm and a rifle. James was never comfortable with a rifle, so they issued him a shotgun. He can nail a dove at 200 feet with a shot gun but can't hit the broadside of a barn with a rifle." Deputy Johnson chuckled at the memory.

"How is he with a side arm?" Hotch asked.

"No one is better." Deputy Johnson searched around the area nearest the patrol car. "Do you think James is alive?"

"Doesn't matter what I think." Hotch replied in a nonchalant tone. "We have two escaped convicts running around with weapons. We have three people missing. There has been no word from any of them in over 72 hours." Hotch ducked back out of the interior and looked at the door.

"But they could be alive, right?"

"They beat a guard in a minimum security prison and then a security guard at the credit union. They are desperate and I wouldn't put anything passed them." A small spot caught his eye. Leaning in, Hotch scrutinized it closer. A bloody finger print. Using his cell phone he took a picture of it and sent it to Garcia.

Realizing that he wasn't going to get anything else out of Hotch, Deputy Johnson kept looking at the scene. Under the brush, he caught sight of something silver. Reaching down he picked up the keys. It took a second to realize that it was James's dog tags hanging from the ring. Hurrying back to Hotch with the find, Johnson arrived in time to hear him say: "Thanks Garcia. Call Morgan."

Hotch hung up the phone. "What's that?" he nodded toward Johnson's right hand.

"James's keys. I found them under the bush about 20 yards from here. So who was on the phone?"

"Our BAU computer analyst. She's calling Sheriff Gonzalez to let him know that the bloody finger print I found on the inside of the car has been searched and came up a positive match for Deputy James Richard Hayes."

Neither one had to explain what that meant.


	10. Chapter 10

_Well, three worlds are about to collide as Emily & Dave try to make their way to find help, Hotch and the team start the search & rescue, and George and Frank decide to get revenge. Nothing goes as planned for the bad guys and Emily's prayer for a miracle is answered. This is for all those who cursed me and had no faith in my ability to weave the ends in to make it all work. _

* * *

**Despertar**

Morning hadn't even dawned when Emily and Dave started making their way back to the cabin. Dave figured that once they got there, he could notify OnStar to contact either the Sheriff's department or the FBI. If that failed, he could stay behind and Emily could get to the road and flag down help.

Emily had remembered her cell phone was in her purse, but it, like her hopes, was on it's last bar. It wouldn't have mattered anyway since they were so far in the woods, there was virtually no reception. It had taken everything she had not to throw it as far as she could and scream every bad word she knew in five different languages. At the last second she came to her senses and realized that it wasn't the phone's fault… she desperately wanted to hurt someone or something and make them hurt as bad as she felt.

It had taken everything she had to get Dave to his feet and get started. Although cognizant of his surroundings, the infection from the gunshot was starting to take its toll. Standing outside the shack, he stared up at the stars to figure out their coordinates. Northeast was their quest.

Faltering steps forward, Dave finally got his balance after a couple of minutes and they were on their way.

"So are you sure this is the right way?" Emily asked her arm slightly around Dave's waist.

"Emily Prentiss, are you questioning my knowledge of these woods?"

"Well…no," she admitted reluctantly.

"You think we should have started out yesterday."

"Yeah."

"It was a pretty good idea, and considering how bad I feel right now, it probably was something we should have done, but I didn't think it was wise to head out in lightning." His words weren't making much sense, but Emily figured as long as he talked, he would stay conscious.

"True."

"Although I think that with the way I have disappointed you on this hunting trip, you may have wanted me to walk out in the lightning."

Emily looked at him in complete shock. "Dave that thought never crossed my mind."

Dave shrugged with indifference. "You wouldn't have been the first woman to wish me hit by lightning…or something worse."

"Well, let me be the first woman to wish otherwise," she responded, her tone firm and full of truth.

Dave continued talking as though Emily hadn't spoke. "Considering some of the things my ex wives shouted at me during the divorce hearings, walking in the woods during a thunderstorm would have seemed like child's play."

"Dave, aren't you being a little dramatic?"

Dave snickered. "Funny you should say that; my ex wife--I forget which one right now--complained that I always seemed to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Perhaps you do, but it worked in your favour; you are a best selling author and speaker, and you teach a helluva interrogation class at the FBI. She was just jealous because she didn't understand you," Emily replied defensively. Her heart had constricted painfully as he confessed his deep dark secrets and she felt her temper flare. _How dare them!_ She made a mental note and put them on the list of people she would give a peace of her mind to…once they got back home.

Home! Was there ever a more wonderful word? _Nope_, she told herself, as visions of a shower popped in her head. She promised never to curse smog and traffic congestion again. But at the same time, she had finally understood what it was that kept Dave coming back to the woods. The peace, the quiet, the serenity---fresh air tinged with maple and pine that wafted in soft breezes. And the stars---she had never seen stars as bright and clear as they were after the storm had moved out. She had fallen in love with the woods…and with Dave.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. But as she thought it thru, it all made perfect sense. Especially when she made the first move and kissed him. Or tried to before he pulled away. She wasn't sure what she had wanted him to do at that moment, but it had hurt to think that he didn't feel the same. _Emily_, she chastised herself, _now is not the time to be thinking like a fourteen year old!_

She shook her head, disgusted at herself. Regardless of how Dave did or didn't feel about her, he was still her partner and he was hurt. He was her responsibility and he was dependent on her keeping her wits and getting them to safety. But she was so hungry, and her body hurt from lying on that tiny cot, and her thoughts were jumbled from shock and fatigue.

Stopping for just a minute to get their breath and recharge, Emily felt Dave's forehead. Very warm. Not good. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a Kleenex and held it to the corner of her eyes. _Pull it together Emily! Just pull it together, get Dave safe, get help, then think about all of this later, okay?_ She ordered herself harshly. Looking at Dave, she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Determination filled her. Shoving the Kleenex into her pocket, Emily decided to stop feeling sorry for herself as the sun started to break thru the dark horizon and she realized that they probably weren't the only ones out in the woods. Tightening her grip around Dave's waist, she urged him forward. They had to keep moving.

* * *

On the far side of the woods, two other people were preparing to enter the woods. After careful consideration of the route Dave and Emily could have taken, George decided to head east. Frank had once again voiced his concern about seeking revenge and maybe heading out. The sound of a helicopter in the distance only added to the paranoia brought on by the pain and fever racking his body.

Stumbling to keep up, Frank tried to make conversation---anything to keep focused and his mind off his thigh. It had taken everything to get his jeans on that morning and go down the stairs. The night before he had swallowed a handful of Motrin to help take away the pain, but nothing seemed to help. In fact, he felt worse.

George skillfully tuned out Frank's ramblings about the helicopter and wishing he was back in jail by keeping his mind on finding and killing David Rossi. Until he found the quick bio in the back of the book, George just thought he and Frank had lost their edge. But as the realization that the guy he had nearly beat down was a best selling crime author and FBI agent, made it understandable that George would have lost the upper hand.

But George knew that the tables had turned and now he was the one in command because he had shot David Rossi. He knew that the bullet, although missing all vital organs, had found a home somewhere. When he had done a quick search after the fight, he had not come across a body. Two days out in the woods without supplies, wounded, and in the rain, George was pretty sure the expert FBI agent was in pretty bad shape and would be easy to finish off.

And his old lady? Two days ago George would have gladly hit that, but now he just wanted to finish her off along with her husband. The both of them deserved his revenge. They thought they were so smart and cunning, well, let's see how they felt as they begged for their lives before he pulled the trigger and put them out of his misery.

George's thoughts played out various scenarios of how he would take care of them once he found them. As he finally settled on a plan, he heard a noise. Looking around, he noticed that Frank was not behind him.

"Frank!" he called out in a loud whisper. "Frank, answer me. Where are you?"

A small groan was the reply. Rushing over to his fallen friend, George looked at the ashen faced Frank.

"I can't go on," Frank panted. His leg felt as though it was being stabbed with hot knives and his body was so cold. It was all he could do to lean against the tree trunk.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Get up!" George commanded.

"I can't; I can't move my legs. Let's just head back. I need a doctor. Forget about that guy."

"How do you want me to get you out of here? He has the keys."

"George, let it go. I want to turn myself in. This didn't turn out the way we planned. I want my mama." Tears ran down Frank's cheeks as he continued babbling incoherently. George felt his forehead and realized that he was burning up badly.

"Son of a bitch!" George bit out. There was no way Frank could continue. He thought about putting Frank out of his misery, but decided that death was so close, it might just be better to leave him and finish his mission.

Stripping the rifle and pistol from his friend, George patted him on the head. "It was nice knowing you Frank." Then George continued on his way.

* * *

Emily was doing what she could to keep Dave focused and conscious but she also tried to work in a little down time so they could both rest and update the strategy for their escape. She could tell that she was losing Dave with each step that passed. He was burning up and although she had found a packet of Life-savers in the bottom of her purse, it wasn't enough.

She was torn. Part of her wanted to leave Dave and try to make it out, but another part reminded her that she was only allowed one time to leave her partner behind and that chance had already been used. Besides, if the shoe was on the other foot, Dave would keep going---of course he would have probably thrown her over his shoulder, but he would have kept tracking.

Emily sighed. She very well couldn't carry Dave over her shoulder. She wasn't even sure she could drag him. What she needed was a miracle--something to make Dave want to continue until they could find help or help found them.

Popping a Life-Saver in her mouth, Emily prayed for that once in a lifetime miracle. Feeling Dave slow down, she lessened her pace when a noise caught her ear.

"Dave," she whispered. "Stop. I hear something." Straining to hear what and where the noise was coming from, Emily braced herself against Dave and reached for her pistol. Slowly the sound made its way closer. It didn't sound like footsteps.

Oh God, what if it was a bear? Were there bears in Virginia? Emily racked her brain to remember. North Carolina had the black bears, but what did Virginia have? Grizzlies? Dear God! Was her prayer for a miracle going to be a painful death at the hands of a beast known to rip car doors off in a couple of seconds?

Well, whatever happened, it would have to come thru her to get to Dave. Aiming her weapon, she waited for the pending attack and nearly jumped out of her skin as a deer walked into the clearing. Holding her breath, she watched in amazement as the animal stopped and made eye contact. Then with a single bound, it disappeared into the brush.

Emily wasn't sure what to think, but knew that wherever they were, they were definitely getting closer to the cabin. She remembered Dave telling her that there was a deer reserve a couple miles north of his place. Hallelujah! They were almost home. That was the second wind she needed as she urged Dave on.

* * *

At that same moment a dozen cars pulled up to Dave's cabin. A swarm of FBI and sheriff department personnel filed out and stood around as Hotch and his team finalized the search plan. Breaking into five groups, the mission was to find Dave and Emily, and if paths were crossed with the escaped convicts to shoot to kill.

Hotch had briefed Director Strauss via webcam with the latest update on the situation. The news that Deputy Hayes was presumed dead had left his friends feeling bewildered and vengeful. JJ had quickly calmed them down and made them remember that no matter what they were feeling at that moment, they were still all officers of the state of Virginia and had an oath to uphold the law.

JJ had gone with Sheriff Gonzalez to inform James's parents of the newest evidence. It had broken her heart when they asked if it was still possible that maybe James could still be alive. All she could do was shake her head and tell them what she knew---which was very little. Without a body, there was still hope. But a bloody fingerprint on the patrol car window, blood spatter on the interior, it was highly unlikely. The memory of James's mother wailing in grief still haunted her as she tried to empathize since she was the mother of a little boy. A little boy who was loved and cherished the same way James had been.

Before they left, James's father told her to find the men who had done this to his son. That was one promise JJ could keep.

Once Hotch laid out what they knew, Strauss let him know that the search and rescue team had a direct order from the FBI director to shoot to kill. With one person dead, and possibly more, it was not worth more lives to bring the killers in. It was apparent that they were desperate and were willing to kill to escape capture. No more innocent lives need be sacrificed.

Hotch relayed the instructions for maintaining contact and what to do should they come across survivors, victims, or criminals. A team was left at the cabin to keep watch and to gather evidence while the others broke up and took sections of the woods.

On high alert everyone made their way carefully thru the thicket of trees and bushes. Twenty minutes into the search Morgan's voice came over the radio.

"Hotch, it's Morgan. I want to let you know that we have located Deputy Hayes. From what I can tell, he's been here for a couple of days."

Hotch's face remained stoic. "Thanks Morgan. I'll let the sheriff know. For the moment, leave him there and just collect the evidence." They both knew that the people who should be removing James were his friends and colleagues.

As he relayed the news to Gonzo, and instead of being broken, he watched as the Sheriff stood taller and got a hardened look to his features. Not a word was spoken as they continued with their search. But vengeance hung in the air and Hotch knew that all the scores were going to be settled one way or the other.

"Hotch?" came the question thru his ear piece.

"What is it Reid?"

"I think we may have found something. About 100 yards due west of your location. I hear someone talking."

Hotch snapped his fingers and pointed. "I'm sending back up right now." Carefully and with purpose, Hotch and his team moved to where Reid's team was waiting. Advancing carefully, they could make out the incoherent rants and what appeared to sound like a growl. Ten feet away, Hotch made out the black figure of a dog.

"Mudgie?" he called out. The dog stopped growling long enough to glance at the person who called his name. Happy to hear a familiar voice, Mudgie's tail started wagging, but he still maintained watch over the man lying on the ground.

Quickly armed agents surrounded the scene while Hotch called the dog off. Kneeling down beside the canine, he noticed that Mudgie's coat was covered in mud, debris, and blood. Carefully he tried to avoid dog kisses while doing a quick examination to determine the extent of injury. He could feel the bullet hole as Mudgie whimpered in pain.

"Agent Hotchner," Agent Gibran called out. "I think we got one of the guys here. He's in pretty bad shape."

"Gun shot?"

"No sir, I think it's an infected dog bite. I think it's turning gangrenous. What do you want us to do?"

It took every bit of professionalism and training to not respond the way Hotch wanted, instead he directed a team to take Frank back to the cabin and call for a helicopter to meet them there. Turning to an agent, he asked that Mudgie be taken back to get medical attention too.

Easier said than done. As the agent reached for Mudgie's collar, the dog went on the defense. Hotch realized that there was no way the dog was going to part with any bit of familiarity after all the hell he had been thru, he decided to let Mudgie stay and help with the search and rescue.

Although there were more than enough eyes to try and find Dave and Emily, Mudgie had the one thing that made him superior to even the most skilled agent: a keen sense of smell. Hotch thanked his lucky stars that something right had finally happened.

Now all they needed was one more miracle before it was too late.


	11. Chapter 11

_Well, the last ten chapters have all lead up to this show down between good and bad. I know how I envisioned it in my mind and I hope that it translated well to paper. Dave keeps his promise to Emily about hunting. And there is a happy ending-sort of with Dave getting the last word as usual! Don't fret about the outcome; there is one more chapter after this. And just to set the record straight, our profilers live!_

* * *

**Despertar**

A helicopter buzzed overhead. Attuned to the different noises in the woods, Emily looked up and saw the distinctive FBI lettering on the underbelly of the cabin. They were saved. The helicopter meant that Hotch and the team were looking for them. There was her miracle.

"Dave, look, it's the FBI; Hotch is here. We're going home," Emily croaked out. Her throat was dry from dehydration and talking non-stop to keep Dave focused. She was so happy she wanted to cry, but didn't have the energy. Never mind, there would be plenty of time for tears later.

At the moment she thought of her friends and their reactions. Emily started preparing herself at the moment for Garcia's welcome back hugs. Not that she would mind at this point-except she hoped they let her take a shower first and burn her clothes before bombarding her.

"Em, I have to stop," Dave pleaded. Looking around, she found a tree stump and led him over to it. Carefully she helped him sit down. Brushing his hair back with her hand, she wiped the sweat from Dave's forehead.

"How do you feel?" concern laced her voice. _Hurry Hotch,_ she silently pleaded.

"Not so good," Dave replied, his voice thick with exhaustion and pain. "Em, I want you to leave me here and go find help."

"No! I am not going to leave you!" Emily declared, as fear filled her. "They are going to find us. As long as we keep moving, we'll be okay." Grabbing his hand, she started to pull him up. "Come on Dave; let's get up."

Dave shook his head. His body hurt, and he was so cold; all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. In his fever ravaged mind he pictured himself lying on cool sheets with Emily's arm around his waist. The common sense part of him reprimanded his ability to interject sex into a hallucination. Hallucination or not, what the hell, he liked it. And he liked Emily's arms around him. He liked it a lot. And someday he would tell her.

But not right now when she was badgering him about standing up and moving. At this moment Dave wasn't even sure if he liked Emily and the way she pushed and pulled on him. He couldn't move anymore. He didn't have the energy or strength to continue. "Go on without me. I'm giving you a direct order."

Emily's temper flared. "Oh no you don't! I didn't come this far to have you crap out! We started this together and we are going to find Hotch. That's my direct order to you!" A little part of Emily took some glee from finally being able to order the arrogant David Rossi around, but another part felt bad. She didn't mean to yell at him, but they couldn't stay there-they had to keep moving. If he wanted to yell at her for this and write her up, oh well, but he could do it after they were safe.

"Now stand up!" Emily's tone held more authority and command than even she thought possible. God, she sounded like her mother! Of all the things David Rossi had to bring out…she shook her head to clear it. Reaching for his hands, Em pulled him to his feet. "Now walk!"

_One foot in front of the other, _she chanted to herself. Her arm tightened around Dave's waist as she struggled to keep him upright. _Almost there, almost there, almost there,_ she repeated as a singsong in her brain to keep on task.

"Emily Prentiss, I love you," Dave remarked out of the blue.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Okay," she replied and her heart picked up speed.

"You don't believe me," he replied, his tone full of hurt.

"I think it's the fever making you delusional, but we'll talk about it later, okay?" A sound caught her ear. Hotch? As her hopes began to rise, so did the hair on the back of her neck. Not good. In the words of David Rossi, Emily's "spidey sense" was on high alert. Holding on to Dave, she reached for her pistol.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," spoke a voice so chilling that Emily felt her blood run cold. "Put the purse down. Now!"

Emily swallowed heavily. With shaking hands, she obeyed. Her grip tightened on Dave as the figure moved from the brush into the clearing. The second UNSUB, Emily deduced. As her gaze swept over him, her brain tried to process possible weak points to get an advantage. Dread filled her as she realized that there weren't many, if any, and anything she planned on doing had to be done right the first time because there would not be a second chance.

Looking the UNSUB over, it dawned on her how lucky Dave had gotten by escaping with his life. And now she understood why he ordered her to run. Drawing on her patrician up bringing, Emily squared her shoulders and stood taller as she faced her potential killer.

"You won't get away with this," Emily commented, her tone as cold as George's. "The FBI is looking for you and for us. And they will find you. And they will shoot to kill."

"Perhaps they will, but first I am going to get enjoyment as I make the famous FBI profiler beg for his life. And his old lady is going to watch," George sneered as he leveled the rifle at Dave.

Emily fought to quell the fear rising in her body and mind. "This isn't going to help your cause. In fact, if they don't manage to kill you, but only arrest you, you will be executed for killing not only a deputy, but _two_ FBI agents."

George looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean two FBI agents?"

"I am not his _old lady_; I am Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss of the FBI. And we have people looking for us. And they won't stop until they find us…and you."

Instead of feeling thwarted, George couldn't believe his luck. Yeah, they might take him down, but he was going to take two of the FBI's own out first. He leveled his aim and his finger danced toward the trigger.

"I know why you are doing this," Emily spoke up. "You want power and respect. You weren't always like this-I can tell by your hesitation-once upon a time some one loved you. But that changed somehow. Maybe it was your mother or father who abused you, but it changed you and made you who you are."

George shook his head clear as Emily's words pierced his conscience. Realizing she hit a home run, she rushed on with her profiling. "It made you feel powerless. No one has ever respected you the way you they should. They misunderstand you; disrespect you, so you lash out. You aren't a killer by nature. You only killed the deputy because you felt cornered and because you couldn't risk him identifying you." Emily tried to catch her breath as she stalled for more time. "I don't think you want to kill us. Or you would have done so already."

George's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Oh, I want to kill you. But first I am going to make you beg for your life and for his." He pointed the rifle at Dave.

Emily might do a lot of things, take chances and risks that didn't make sense or put her life in danger, but she would never abandon her pride and beg for mercy. She was tired of running and being intimidated. She had to take it from her mother and from Strauss; she would be damned if she was going to take it from a murderous thug.

"No." Her declaration was clear and loud. "You want to kill me? Then do it. But I won't beg." Her unblinking defiant gaze met his intense glare squarely. Unflinching, Emily stood her ground as George narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

At the last second Emily pushed Dave out of the way and felt the bullet pierce her shoulder. _Son of a bitch!_ She cursed as the impact threw her to the ground and knocked the air from her lungs. Dazed, she tried to get to her feet and was stopped by the thrust of a rifle barrel in her face.

"Ready to beg now, bitch?" George growled. Emily felt the blood rush from her wound as her head started spinning. Flicking her gaze upward, she found George's eyes to be deep empty hazel pools. There was no mercy to be found. Leaves rustling made her look quickly to Dave and then back to her executioner.

"Go to hell!" Emily bit out in defiance and pain.

George sneered at her as he aimed the rifle. Before he could pull the trigger, a low rumble filled the air. Turning slightly, George barely had time to think before he was swept off his feet by a force that took him and Emily by surprise.

Emily had heard the growl and wondered if it was a bear. In the blink of an eye, George was lying on the ground away from her being pummeled by Dave. It only took a second for her to clear her head and scramble to her feet. Unable to locate the rifle, she spied her purse and sprinted to it. In the background she heard the blows being thrown from both sides.

Overwhelmed by pain, Emily tried to get her fingers to work as they ineffectively grasped the zipper. _Come on Emily, come on! _Finally getting the zipper down, she grasped the butt of the pistol. Turning around, Emily didn't even have a chance to aim before strong hands grasped hers and tried to force the weapon from her.

All of her training came back as she stood her ground and fought back. She knew that if she lost, she was dead. Struggling against a man twice her size, Emily delivered a blunt kick to his shin and another to his groin. In pain and winded, George let go.

Emily only had a millisecond to form a plan before a violent blow landed across her face and knocked her to the ground. The pistol flew from her hand, as darkness started to conquer her. Her vision blurred from blood and tears, she watched as George attacked Dave. _Dave!_ Dizzy, nearly incoherent, and in pain, Emily struggled to her knees.

As the punches continued to fly, Emily frantically looked around for her pistol. Nothing. _Where could it be?_ She heard Dave yell out for her to run. He was ordering her to save herself. But she wasn't going to leave him. Just as she was about to tackle George herself, Emily's fingertips brushed against something metal. The rifle. She didn't have time to check to see if it was loaded, but prayed that it was as she stood and lined her target.

"Hey!" Emily announced. George stopped hitting Dave long enough to turn around and see Emily with the rifle. Emitting an animalistic sound, he jumped to his feet and flew at her. Without hesitation, Emily pulled the trigger.

The report of the rifle echoed thru the silent woods as Emily's aim found its target. As the force of the bullet hit George between the eyes, his body was thrown clear of Emily.

With the life gone from his body, George landed with a thud on the ground. For a long second, Emily watched and waited for the broken lifeless form to move. Realizing that it was over, she threw the rifle to the ground and ran over to Dave.

"Dave! Dave! Wake up!" she ordered and checked his injuries. "Come on, stay with me. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. You can do it. You can do it." She reached into her pocket for the Kleenex and pressed it against the cut over Dave's eye to stem the blood flow. He wasn't waking up. Stifling a sob, she looked at the sky. Was it too late to request another miracle?

* * *

Meanwhile, Hotch and the team were frantically searching the area when they heard a gun shot. Looking at Reid, they started forward toward the sound.

Suddenly Mudgie broke free. "Mudgie! Mudgie!" Hotch called out. But the dog was deaf to the order, only intent on following the scent and noise his senses had picked up.

"Come on!" Hotch ordered the team. Not sure which direction to head toward, they decided to follow Mudgie. Weapons drawn and senses on full alert, Hotch and Reid picked up the pace to full speed when another gun shot filled the air.

No time for words, they broke into a run.

* * *

Emily was frantic. Dave continued to be unresponsive despite her attempts to bring him back to consciousness. Indifferent to the pain in her shoulder, she moved over him and tried to tend to the many cuts and bruises he had sustained. He had risked his life for hers. She could never pay him back.

"Come on Dave, open your eyes," she pleaded. A noise caught her ear. The frenetic rustling of leaves alerted her to someone coming their way. _Oh God!_ She prayed and wondered if she could find the strength to ward off a second attack. Bracing herself, Emily waited.

Suddenly, without warning, Emily was knocked backwards by a heavy black force. Trying to get her wits together and catch her breath, Emily found her face being licked by a sloppy wet tongue. "Mudgie?" she croaked. The tongue continued as Emily burst into tears and laughter.

After determining that Emily was alright, Mudgie moved over to his master. Slurping his tongue across Dave's face, he waited. Getting no response, Mudgie nudged Dave's chest with his nose and started whining. One more lick and another whine.

Slowly with every bit of effort he could muster, Dave opened his eyes. "Hi boy," he greeted. Mudgie frantically started licking Dave's face out of excitement. Emily tried to process the whole thing when the area was suddenly surrounded by FBI and other law enforcement personnel.

"Emily!" Hotch called out and grabbed her shoulders to pull her into a bear hug. They were found. Emily didn't want to cry in front of the great Aaron Hotchner, but somehow the tears found their way out and streaked down her cheeks.

Emily pulled back and brushed the tears away. "I'm okay; go take care of Dave. He's been shot." She struggled to get to her feet, but Hotch stopped her.

"Emily, stay there; you've been shot too. I'll see to Dave." He snapped his fingers for assistance. "I need medical help over here. We have two officers down." Medical personnel moved in as law enforcement started to contain the crime scene.

Weakly Emily tried to push away the oxygen mask. She had to know how Dave was faring. Moved to a stretcher, she tried to look around but was halted as she was fitted for a C-collar. She barely felt the prick of the IV being inserted and taped down.

"Reid," she croaked out. She felt him grasp her hand. "Find out how Dave is. Please. They hurt him pretty bad. I have to know." Her words were slurred as darkness surrounded her. It seemed so inviting, so peaceful, and she wanted so badly to surrender to its promise of no pain, but she had to know about her partner first.

"Sir," a medical person commanded, "We have to move her out."

Reid looked at Emily and took in the cuts, bruises and the gauze covering her shoulder. "Wait just a second." Letting go of Emily's hand, he made his way to where they were prepping Dave for immediate transport. Darkeness threatened to take her as she desperately tried to stay awake.

She barely felt her hand being clasped by Reid as he called out for her. "Emily! Emily! He's going to be alright." Emily opened her eyes and smiled weakly. Why was Reid crying? She tried to sort it out, but gave up. "Emily, he wanted me to tell you 'good shot'."

Satisfied, Emily closed her eyes and gave into the sweet oblivion calling her name.


	12. Epilogue

_Well dear readers, we have come to the end. I wasn't sure how to approach this chapter, so I let Dave and Emily take the reins and say what I couldn't. Bear with me if this chapter seems weak, but there was no other way to write this than from their point of view. Thank you for all your reviews, and more than anything, thank you for taking the time to read these stories. It means more than I can ever express in words. You guys are the best!_

* * *

**Despertar**

The snow was falling outside the cabin while inside, Dave added another log to the crackling fire. Stepping back, he replaced the grate and took a seat on the couch. It was new---along with most of the stuff that decorated the house. He had gotten rid of every bad reminder and replaced it with new items--items that someday would create and hold good memories.

And there was another reason for his desire to redecorate: Emily Prentiss.

Dave knew how Emily was fueled by emotion, and although not completely superstitious, she would never have walked back into the cabin if it looked like it had on the last trip. He wanted a do-over and make it up to her. The cabin was the first step.

The second had been to establish a memorial fund for future law enforcement officers in James's name.

The third was being with her during her physical therapy. Although Dave had been shot and beat half to death, Emily's gunshot wound had nearly destroyed her joint capsule. Three surgeries and 3 long months of therapy passed before she could finally come back to work at full duty.

It was during all of this that he found himself falling for her harder and deeper than he had with any other woman. Of course, no other woman had talked to him the way she had, nor risked their life for him by jumping in front of a bullet. Not a night since they were rescued had Dave gone to bed without feeling Emily's arms around him, and the softness of her body pulled tightly against his. But in the morning, he always woke by himself.

At the weirdest moments, he could remember the feel of her lips against his, and he cursed himself for pushing her away. But he'd had to; he was right when he told her that he didn't do pity sex. He made love. Long, slow, thorough love to any woman who occupied his bed. That was just the kind of guy he is. Or was. There was only one woman he wanted to make love to---only one woman he wanted to surrender himself heart, soul, and body completely. Only one woman he wanted to occupy his bed.

He could still remember seeing her leaning over him and calling his name. He had heard the sobs and felt the tears that ran from her eyes to drop on his face. He had wanted so much to reach up and touch her, but he couldn't move. Even when Mudgie licked him, he had only whispered a greeting.

Fevers are peculiar things. He had faded in and out of consciousness so many times after that he had trouble remembering what was real and what wasn't. He knew that the memory of telling Reid that Emily was a "good shot" was real, and the feeling of sleeping on the cot with her was real, but the memory of Emily lying on cool sheets with him was a hallucination.

And somewhere in his hallucinations, he'd told her that he loved her. He had been racking his brain for weeks to remember, but things were still fuzzy. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be able to separate fantasy and reality from that weekend. One memory that wasn't a fantasy was waking up and seeing Emily sitting beside his hospital bed. Her arm was in a sling, and she was still pretty grimy, but she had to see him and thank him.

Later that day, Hotch had stopped by to check on him and in the way only he could, Hotch bluntly asked Dave what had happened that weekend. And he didn't mean crossing paths with escaped convicts. To the best of his ability, Dave confessed that he loved Emily. And then Hotch was quiet for a very long time.

Once upon a time David Rossi had counseled a young Aaron Hotchner about personal and professional lives and how to keep them separated. Now the shoe was on the other foot. Eventually, Hotch only nodded and told Dave that if he ever hurt Emily he would wish the bullet had gotten him instead of her.

But Dave never got around to telling her how he felt. So many times he had come close, but chickened out. He was unsure how to go about it since it was possible that he had already told her and he didn't want to repeat the declaration twice. But so what? He loved her more than any other woman before in his life. And tonight, he was going to tell her how he felt.

Watching her patter across the hardwood floor in her bare feet (God he loved her feet!), carrying two glasses of his favourite Italian wine, he felt the desire rise. Taking the glass from her, his heart melted at her smile. Yes, tonight was the night.

* * *

Emily poured the wine, set the bottle down, and took a deep breath. Standing in the kitchen alone, while Dave started a fire, gave her a few minutes to gather her wits and try to calm down.

It had been five months since that disastrous hunting trip that changed everything that had meant something to Emily Prentiss. The little things she worried about had been sorted, filed, and packed away---maybe someday to be taken out and examined; or maybe not. The big things had been categorized and filed, and one by one she got to them. Although one got to her first.

She would never forget waking up from her first surgery and finding her parents standing by her bed. It had been so long since she remembered her mother holding her hand and saying everything was going to be alright. Never in her wildest dreams would Emily have imagined her father standing beside her bed, holding her hand, and crying.

Emily wasn't sure if it had been the anesthetic or the fact that she had survived that made her finally mend fences with her family. In a way, she had Dave to thank for that. That weekend, although terrible and haunting, had opened her eyes to so many things. Especially her love for him.

It was no secret that Emily was madly, totally, head over heels, completely in love with David Rossi. She had tried to hide it, but Reid had figured it out while she was lying on the stretcher, refusing to leave until they told her Dave's condition. Dave's remark about her being a 'good shot' was the last thing she remembered before losing consciousness.

At the hospital, Emily had demanded that she be helped out of her bed to be by his bedside. Although the bullet had not seriously injured Dave, the fever that ravaged his body for two days had worried the doctors. Disregarding her health, Emily had made sure she was there to hold his hand. When he woke up once the fever broke, she thanked him.

Totally out of character for Emily Prentiss. The old Emily Prentiss, she amended; she was starting over and this trip back to the cabin was only the beginning.

But there was still that little part of her who was worried that Dave didn't feel the same toward her. Yes he had 'confessed' his love during their escape, but he was delirious with fever. Then there were the times he helped her to her physical therapy appointments and when she had had to have two more surgeries. Each time she woke up, her room was filled with dozens of flowers. She remembered blushing when one of the older nurses remarked that Emily was pretty lucky to have a man who loved her that much.

Emily didn't know how to respond because she wasn't sure herself. So many times in her life she had given her heart freely only to have it broken or flung back in her face. So, when Dave told her 'I love you' she hadn't gotten her hopes up, but it didn't stop her heart from wishing.

Although she had fallen in love with the woods, in all honesty, Emily had no desire to ever go hunting again. Nor to step foot in the cabin. Until Dave announced that he had bought a new truck and asked that she come back with him to see the new improvements he had made to his place.

Emily's first reaction had been to say no. Then Dave decided to use his "ace in the hole" and told her that Mudgie was feeling lonely and wanted to see his friend. Emily couldn't say no to Mudgie.

Now as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Dave stir the fire and then sit on the couch, her heart began to beat fast at the thought that tonight she was going to tell him how she felt.

* * *

"Here you go," Emily said, as she handed the wine glass to Dave. Her breath caught at the way his eyes darkened as he took a sip.

Sitting on the other end of the couch, Emily made herself comfortable. Slowly she sipped her drink and stared off into the fire as she tried to get her thoughts together.

"What's on your mind?" Dave asked softly.

Emily took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. _A hundred things, _she thought to herself. _I want to know how you feel---about me, but I'm too afraid to ask. I want to know if that weekend together completely changed us in a good way. But if it changed us in a bad way, can we ever go back? But more than anything, I want--no, I _need_ to know why you brought me out here again. I want to hear you say those three words to me again---without a fever making you delusional._

Instead, she replied: "Nothing."

Dave leaned forward and placed his glass on the coffee table. "I think I know you well enough to translate that 'nothing' as meaning 'too much that I don't know where to start'." Emily looked at him in surprise. He gave her his famous crooked smile and raised an eyebrow. "I'm a profiler, remember?"

"As if I could forget." She placed her glass on the coffee table beside Dave's and leaned back. "Honestly, you want to know?"

"Yes."

"I'm trying to figure all of this out. So much happened last time and I am still trying to come to grips with it. I still have so many feelings to work thru--I don't know if coming out here again was a good idea."

"I know."

Emily looked around at the room. "I like the changes you made."

"I did it for you," Dave replied matter of fact. Emily looked at him sharply.

"You did? Why?"

Dave reached out and took her hand. "Because I knew that you would never have come out here if it looked the same. You don't handle bad memories very well, and I wanted to make it easier for you to walk in and have one less thing on your mind."

"Dave…that must have cost you a fortune."

He shrugged. "I can't take it with me. And if I don't use it, my ex wives will find a way to claim it, so I might as well spend it on some one who would and could really appreciate it." He watched her face change from sad to confusion to apprehensive. "That some one is you, Emily."

"I don't understand."

"Which part? Bringing you out here? Or fixing the place up? Because I thought I made my feelings clear more than a few times."

"I-"

"Why did I bring you out here? Because I like you and I wanted to get to know you better. We are two of a kind---we care too much, we think too much, and we tend to cut ourselves off if there is a chance we can get hurt."

"Dave-"

He put his finger against her lips to silence her response. "Let me speak. I know the fever probably twisted my thoughts and made me incoherent on occasion, but I am quite sure that I made my feelings clear. More than once. You risked your life for me; no other woman has ever made that sacrifice. But you are not just any other woman--you are an incredibly beautiful, strong, and loyal woman and friend. I don't think I could have gotten thru that weekend without you. I can never thank you enough."

"You're welcome," Emily whispered.

Dave sighed. "I know that I am not making any sense. It's the downside of being a writer. If I were putting this on paper, I could say everything and have it be clear. Right now, with you here, even though I've practiced it a hundred times…"

"David Rossi is tripping over his words?"

"Very funny." Dave pulled back and leaned over to reach for the box sitting on the far end of the coffee table. Lifting it, he paused for a moment, then turned back to Emily. "I made this for you. I know it's not the same as sharing a candy bar or taking a bullet, but I hope it helps you understand what I'm trying to say."

Not sure what to expect, Emily took the box and slowly lifted the lid. Carefully she pulled aside the tissue paper to reveal a dust jacket. "A book?" Pulling it out, she turned it over in her hands. "What is this?"

"Open it."

Emily turned the pages to the dedication section. Twice, three times she read the words before they made sense. _"To Emily, my inspiration and my reason for writing--Without you, this story would have had a completely different ending."_ As her eyes filled with tears, Emily looked at him. "What--I don't understand. You wrote a book about that weekend?"

"Why not? Writers are known for getting inspiration from the smallest and craziest things. Although it was a horrible weekend why should that stop me from making something positive out of it?"

"You're crazy."

Dave nodded. "I've heard that before. I think all of my wives called me that more than once." He watched as she continued reading.

"You also dedicated this to James."

"I had to. In fact, all of the proceeds of this book are going to his memorial fund. I figured it was the least I could do."

Emily couldn't stop the tears if she had tried. "David Rossi, you are something else." By the light of the fire, she looked at the title. "Despertar?"

"It's Spanish for--"

"Awakening; I know," Emily finished.

"It's a perfect title. That weekend was an eye opener for me. I almost lost everything that was important to me." Reaching out he touched her hair and slowly caressed her cheek. "It woke me up to what was missing. Or rather, who was missing." With his thumb he brushed away a tear. "Oh, there is one more thing in the box." Emily reached in and came up with a Butterfinger. Completely flummoxed, she looked at it and then at Dave. "I owed you one."

Moving closer, Dave closed the space between them. Putting the book and candy bar aside, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and looked into her eyes. "Plus this." Covering her mouth with his, he felt her sigh and then lean in. Slowly he moved his lips against hers as his tongue outlined and requested permission for further access. With a small groan, Emily opened up and let him in.

Her head swimming from ecstasy and overwhelmed by knowing Dave was kissing her, Emily tried to make sense of it all. In the end, she gave up trying to think and weaved her fingers thru his hair to pull him closer. For so long she had dreamed of this moment---fantasized about being in his arms. How many nights had she gone to bed thinking of all the women who had shared David Rossi's bed; jealous that they were the lucky ones. Now she was the lucky one, sitting on his couch, in his arms, and taking in the way he slowly seduced her with his tongue and hands.

Dave wanted to go slowly. But the moment he kissed her, he realized that slow was impossible. For five months he had dreamt about that kiss and how unfair it had been that he had to pull away. But not now. As he felt her fingers in his hair to pull him closer, Dave knew slow was no longer in his vocabulary. Deepening the kiss, he tried to get closer to her, to touch her soul, to be one with her. Slowly he reached under her blouse and cupped her breast. Her response was a low moan as her nipple hardened against his palm and her body arched against his. Moving his lips from hers, he nuzzled a path down across her chin to the rapid pulse in the dip between her neck and shoulder.

As his lips moved across her skin, he stopped when he came to her scar. Slowly, and with effort, Dave pulled away. "Em, there is something I need to tell you."

Dazed from ecstasy and pure unadulterated pleasure, it took a moment for Emily to realize that Dave had stopped his love making. "What's wrong?" she stammered.

Dave gently touched the angry red scar. "This."

"It's only a scar Dave. Go ahead; touch it." She held her breath as Dave laid his palm across it. The heat from his hand filled her and left her wanting more.

"No woman has ever done for me what you did." He looked up at her; his eyes twinkled from unshed tears. "You were willing to sacrifice your life for mine."

Emily met his gaze. "Yes."

"Why?"

Emily bit her lip and swallowed hard before replying. "Because I love you." Pulling him close, she covered his mouth with hers as she melded her body to his. She felt his tears mix with hers, and tasted their saltiness on her tongue. She didn't have to hear the words to know how he felt. For David Rossi to break down in her arms and show emotion was his way of telling her all she would ever have to know without saying a word.

Pulling away, Em held him close. "Dave?"

"Yes?"

"Out of curiosity, did you get a new bed too?"

"Yes."

"Then why are we breaking in the couch?" Her eyes shone with love. Without a word, Dave stood up and swung Emily into his arms. Heading toward the stairs he started up and then stopped.

"Thank you."

Emily laughed softly. "Actually, I would rather you show me, okay?"

Tightening his grip about her, Dave sprinted up the stairs to his room. And he showed her with actions all the words in his heart.

Forever.


End file.
